Area Code 919
by Dragon Chyld
Summary: Cell We know what happened to Clay and co., but what would happen to the rest of us? Here’s a take on what might occur in North Carolina.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** If I were half as good as S.K. then I wouldn't be here… But, I do have a friend from Maine – but that's beside the point. All characters here are either based on people I know, or are made up. Any resemblance to anyone is purely coincidental, unless I meant it not to be. If I don't know you, then don't take it personally. All online names were products of my own imagination.

**Note:** Just finished Cell and couldn't help but to wonder what my life would be like should it happen. All 'characters' in this fic are based on actual people but names have been changed. I also changed a few road names and such, seeing how I based this on my hometown.

**Area Code 919**

-1-

A typical day at work left me all but exhausted. My job wasn't physically demanding, but boy was it boring. If there was one thing that could put me to sleep faster and a double dose of NyQuil it was the lack of mental stimulation. To top it off, I had to stay over to finish the last minute details needed for a report due Monday. Icing on the cake, and all that jazz.

I always looked forward to Fridays, but leaving work fifteen minutes late added a hint of animosity to an otherwise lousy day. All I wanted was to get home, run next door (to my parent's house) and pick up my son who always had a way of cheering me up. The joys of being a single mom were the perks of having the child's full attention – it could also be a headache but you always have to take the bad with the good.

In habit, the first thing I checked when I got to my car was my trusty cell. If there had been problems with my son or with my brother then a message would be waiting for me. On a normal day, nothing but the usual read out of time and date awaited me. Today I wasn't that lucky. Today the dreaded 'battery low' warning printed itself across the screen. I had forgotten to plug it up last night and now the consequences stared me straight in the face.

"Thanks for the help, Scrap Face." Scrap face was the loving name I always call the mobile when I had forgotten to charge it; which was frequently. I wasn't too worried about it, though. Home was only a fifteen minute drive and I should be there before my clock hit 3:45.

Most of my drive was quiet and free of traffic. I counted down the minutes; a game I played to keep myself occupied as I drove. By 3:37 I was within two miles of home. Obviously I had been more ready to get home than I expected. I had exceeded the speed limit while in a half witted daze.

Alexander Drive came into view. My journey home was almost complete. So far the only enigma on my mind was what to fix for dinner. Within half a minute, that changed. I got to the light and immediately slammed on the brakes as a car speed though the opposing red light.

I hadn't fully dislodged the shock out of my head before an eighteen wheeler zoomed in front me. The driver was swerving the truck so frantically I was sure he would jack-knife. He did. Only two feet after passing me he jerked suddenly to the left. Hitting the median, soft soil shot up as the truck came to rest blocking most of the roadway.

For a minute I wondered if the world had just gone insane. Within that same minute my illogical ideas manifested into more tangible evidence as a car horn sounded loudly behind me. I shot my eyes to the rear-a-view mirror just in time to see a car speeding straight at me. I tensed and tightened my grip on the steering wheel, ready for the impact, when the car jolted around me. Traveling at high speed, the car rounded the corner and headed straight for the eighteen wheeler.

"No! There's a truck in the road that way, idiot!" I screamed in vain. The driver couldn't hear me as they made a straight shot for the truck's trailer. I flinched as the front of the small two-door car collapsed into the metal wall. It was like watching a movie. The hood collapsed into the front window. The horn sputtered until it went silent.

I reached frantically for Scrap Face; who resided in the driver's door while I drove. Flipping the phone open, I prayed for just enough juice to call 911. Scrap Face stuck a virtual tongue out at me as the phone died after only pressing the 9.

Without a single ounce of precaution, I pulled over to the shoulder of the road. After plucking the key from the ignition, I grabbed the jean jacket on the passenger seat. As quickly as I could I exited my SUV, locked the doors and struggled to put the jacket on while pushing both my phone and keys into the pockets.

I scanned the road for traffic, ready to jog to the site of the crash, when I noticed the familiar beacons of red and blue coming up the road. Relief flooded me as two police cars stopped at the scene of the accident.

Having lived in Durham, North Carolina all my life, I was accustoming to seeing the police frequently. What surprised me was the speed of response. The accident was barely five minutes old. That was when the feeling of wrongness sank in. Something wasn't right and I was sure I had just entered the Twilight Zone.

A total of three officers spilled from the 'black and whites'. Two officers, one male and one female, set immediately to investigate the crash. The third scanned the streets and stopped when he spotted me.

"Excuse me, Miss!" he spoke at an alarmingly loud volume. I noticed he had his hand instinctively placed on the butt of his gun.

"Yes?" I couldn't keep my voice from shaking.

"What's your name?" His voice was stern and demanding.

I felt slightly intimidated by his tone. I had encounters with the law before, but only because of some of the people I knew. I, myself, was a law abiding citizen with the exception of speeding to get home on occasions. The officer's eyes regarded me with apprehension and that further instilled my anxiety.

"Helen Ashen."

"Mrs. Ashen, it is advised that you go home immediately and stay there. Understood?"

I nodded; neglecting to correct him. I wasn't a Mrs. I was a Miss. Regardless; I wasn't going to argue with a cop. My mind did want to ask him why I should leave. It was common knowledge that any witness to an accident should give a report. Then again, he was pretty determined to have me out of the way.

I boarded my SUV and cautiously crossed over the intersection. I had only two turns to go before reaching home. The road leading to the first turn was uneventful. One fourth of a mile of nothing unusual was a distant memory when I rounded that first turn.

Immediately after the turn, there was a small hill. The hill wasn't much, but it did prevent a good view of the road ahead. Just over the hill a school bus was stopped. The red lights blinked in rhythm. I was surprised after the accident I had just witnessed that I could still question the bus's appearance. If I had left work on time, I surly would have been behind this very bus; but I had left late.

My mind was encompassed in so many thoughts that it took a while for the movements on the bus to capture my attention. What got my full focus was the back window exploding out. Tiny shards of glass rained on the hood of my vehicle.

I gasped sharply at the sight that unfolded before me. The bus was one that transported middle school students. The glass had not been knocked out by a book, but by a student. A kid, no more than eleven, hung out of the broken window from the waist up. His arms bumped limply on the emergency door.

I covered my mouth; stifling a scream as the legs followed the rest of him out of the window. He landed in a pile on the asphalt. A man, he had to be the bus drive, made a sluggish lunge to catch him. His thick hairy arm grasped at air as he tilted himself over the edge to view the body resting on the ground. The bus driver screeched and swung his head to the right. The Bluetooth ear piece, which had once been lodged in his ear, came loose and followed the pre-teen to the road.

Hysteria took hold of me. I screamed as my foot hit the gas. With no concerns for road safety I hurdled myself around the bus. Fighting off a panic attack, I sped the rest of the way. I only slowed enough to make the turn onto my street without rolling my SUV.

I broke habit and parked in my parent's drive way. Moving at high speed, I yanked the keys from the ignition and raced from my car to the house. The first key I jammed into the knob was the wrong one. Cursing under my breath I fumbled with the wad of keys until I located the right on. My hand shook and the keys tumbled from my grasp. I could feel the tears building as I snatched them from the walkway and once again located the right key.

This time I managed to get the door unlocked. In haste I slammed the door behind me. My timing was perfect. As the door snapped closed, my father appeared in the kitchen doorway.

"Oh good, you're here. Look, I've got Mickey. We're going to get a hair cut."

Following closely behind my father was my four year old son.

"No!" I screamed hysterically. "You can't go out there!"

"Mama?" Mickey gave me a worried smile as he approached. "You okay?"

I knelt down and hugged him almost too tight. He struggled against me but I held on anyway. I looked up over his shoulder and meet my father's eyes. "There's a huge accident at Alexander and Page. And…" I swallowed hard. "Something else. A kid's hurt right up the road."

"What do you mean hurt?" My mom asked rounding the corner. I knew my hysterics would eventually have her running.

"In front of the new housing complex going toward Page. I think the bus driver went crazy or something. He pushed the kid through the window of the bus." No, he didn't push the kid. He rammed the kid through the glass. Now that I could think back to it, my memory conjured the blood I had omitted at the time.

I was sure I was going to throw up, but I managed to hold down my lunch.

"The bus driver fushed da kid out da window?" Mickey asked innocently.

I was thankful at that time, more than usual, that my son didn't ride the bus. He wouldn't be old enough for school until next year.

I released him enough to cup my hand on his cheek. "Don't worry about it, Mickey. I've got to call 911."

I stood up as my father passed me. I turned sharply. My over protective motherly instincts were on hyper drive. "Where are you going?"

"If there's a kid hurt up there I'm going to help."

"I wanna go!" Mickey exclaimed. He was always excited about going anywhere.

I knew I couldn't persuade my father into staying, but I did have control over my son's action. "No, Mickey, you stay here."

"But mom!"

"No arguing or I'll take way your Spyro game, got me?"

"Gotcha," he moaned.

I left mom to supervise my son as I hurried to the kitchen. Every phone in the house was cordless except the kitchen phone. Mom always kept a corded phone for use if the power went out. My hands were still shaky, but I managed to punch in the three numbers without a misdial.

After one ring a friendly automatic voice informed me that all lines were busy and I needed to try again at a later time.

I hung the phone and searched the room for anything that would help ease my mind. As if she were physic, my mother entered the room.

"Mom," I said in a voice just as uneven as my hands were shaking. "Something isn't right. There's something going on here and I think we're all in for it."

Before she could respond, I clicked on the small TV that hung from the cabinet near the sink. Scrolling through the channels I stopped on the answer to all questions – the 24 hour news channel.

A man in his mid thirties sat in front of the cameras. His expression was laced with something forbidden to any news anchored. He was scared.

"This is Brian McCotney coming to you live from Chicago. We have reports here straight from the federal government. You are all advised to stay inside your homes. Do not leave. It seems that an epidemic has swept through the nation. Jesus! The whole U S of freakin' A. We have reports that a large number of people have simply started attacking each other."

The sweat poured from Brian's brow. He ran a nervous hand through his thinning hair. "We repeat. Do not leave you homes. Do not attempt to make contact with anyone who doesn't act normal. Do not…Jesus! This can't be happening."

I turned to greet the faces of my mother and son. My son's face was masked with curiosity. My mother's had gone pale.

"The whole country? Did he say the whole country?" My voice was high and squeaky.

"Oh Lord, Justin. Your father just left."

I snatched up the receiver of the phone and quickly punched in the familiar seven digits. My only response was the melody that announce dad had left his cell phone in the back bedroom.

"He's got his work phone on him. I don't know the number." I could hear panic on the edge of my mother's voice.

"I don't either."

Mom moved through the kitchen in what could have easily been one step. She deftly grabbed her purse from her office and headed straight for the door. "I'm going to get your father. Helen, you and Mickey stay here. I have my phone on me if something happens."

I nodded, unable to speak as my son hugged her bye. I moved behind her and followed her to the door. In my mind I begged my mother not to go. I wanted to cry and throw a tantrum, but I was 27 and not 2. I also knew that after more than 30 years of marriage, my mother wouldn't be convinced not to go to my father.

I watched from the door as my mother maneuvered her little blue Ford around my foreign SUV. A knot formed in my throat. As I stared off into the trees across the street, I couldn't help but to wonder if I would ever see my parents again. That thought quickly dominoed. I had a very large family. If there was something going on I had to make contact with someone.

"Mama?"

The small voice of pure innocence snapped me back from purgatory. My family remained my top priority. Most of the numbers I had were stored inside my wonderful companion, Scrap Face. I closed the door and went straight to my mom's office. Lucky me to have a mom who works from home.

The office was an add-on to the house where a carport once was. The entrance was through the kitchen and I didn't even bother to turn the TV off. I sat down at mom's desk and plugged my phone up. Mickey played shadow and followed me. I smiled at him and motioned toward the second computer. He sat promptly and proceeded to play a much enjoyed Sponge Bob Square Pants game I had purchased for him only months ago.

I used his presence as a security blanket. He was the only person I had near and I needed some touch with normality.

I proceeded to search the immediate area around the desk for mom's brown address book. At the moment, the book was elusive and provided as helpful as Scrap Face. Had my thoughts been more logical, I would have used Scrap Face since the cell would work now that it was plugged. But my mind was working in half capacity at high speed and that option never entered my train of thought. I didn't spend time digging under the papers scattered about looking for the address book. A sense of urgency consumed me. Giving up on the book, I resorted to the computer. I could find phone numbers in an online phone book faster than I could search the office.

I opened Internet Explorer and readied myself for the dreaded error informing me that all internet access was either gone, or traffic was too heavy. My apprehension, guided by the events I had just encountered, was ill fed. The home page came up almost instantly.

I moved the mouse over the address bar, but stopped when the headline caught my undivided attention.

**World Goes Insane! Many Believe Terrorists Have Hijacked Airwaves.**

The tremors that had taken control of my hands spread throughout my entire body. I glanced at the time and noted it was 4:15. I had been home for less than an hour and my Friday had gotten worse instead of better.

It didn't improve as I read the brief summary.

'Though it is confirmed that something has gone wrong, the events leading to the current state of life have many theories. Whatever has happened took place at 3:03 Eastern Standard Time. Mass acts of violence have been reported from almost every corner of the world.'

You just had to love the speed of the internet. Not always trust worthy, but fast.

"_The world?" _I thought as I stared at the text on the screen. _"First the country and now the world?"_

"Aw man!" Mickey moaned behind me. A short investigation confirmed he was unhappy with another loss on his game. I was envious of his oblivious nature. I already had trouble accepting what I had seen with my own eyes; not to mention what I had just found. A small voice inside taunted me that it was just one big practical joke. A bigger voice screamed that Judgment Day had arrived.

I clicked on the link labeled 'Theories'. I came to a list of more links, each sporting their respective outlook.

I was truly amazed that through such mass disorder, so many people would run to the virtual world of the web for answers and comments. Then again, here I was online myself.

I scanned the list, letting gut intuition lead me.

Something in the water?

Satellites Gone Awry.

Cell phones prove more deadly.

Divine Punishment

Mutated Flu Strikes!

The Pulse

radioactive zombie alert!

I paused and immediately clicked on the link labeled 'The Pulse'. I scanned the text briefly; stopping to read anything that sounded factual. I was in a forum and understood that any idiot with a keyboard could contribute. But sometimes someone with half a brain would also leave words of wisdom.

The first entry I read was obviously the first one posted. Someone who called themselves BlackRiver91 theorized that a Pulse had been sent through the airwaves; targeting cell phone users. He (I assumed it was a he) used a lot of computer jargon to basically say that someone had sent a signal out and it had a very negative effect on the human mind. Supposedly this signal – or Pulse – stripped away nearly the whole human conscience, leaving people in more of a zombie state than a human one. Everyone affected by it was driven to violence without a shred of their original self left.

I had a hard time swallowing that. Such an elaborate theory in such a short amount of time didn't seem right. I continued to scan the forum anyway. Something urged me on.

My eyes caught an entry by PrettyPumpkin212.

'I have to agree with the Pulse Theory. I'm sitting at my desk, in my office and saw a lot through the windows. A man was talking on his cell phone one minute and ripping out the throat of another man the next minute. He used his TEETH!! Somehow they've hijacked the airwaves. It's mass chaos for anyone who was on their phone – their cell phone! As the first man continued to bite the other, a woman tried to make a call on her cell. I assume she was calling the cops, but then she went completely nuts. God help us all.'

"God help us all," I echoed PrettyPumpkin's plea.

Now that I thought about it, it was entirely possible that the truck driver and the crash maniac from earlier had been talking on a cell when they lost control of their vehicles. I also recalled the Bluetooth earpiece that the bus driver had lost out the back window of the bus.

I read a bit further down the forum. BigFishD also agreed with PrettyPumpkin212 adding a few more insights. According to BigFishD the Pulse might have been an attempt at mind control either gone as plan (to have us all kill each other) or horribly wrong. What ever was going on, it all connected to cell phones.

Cell phones! Dad was out there with the mobile he used at work and most likely had already used it. If he found the kid hurt at the school bus, he would have used his phone to call for help. Then there was mom. She had taken her phone…

It knocked the breath clean out of me. I was sure both parents, loving and wonderful, had fallen victim to this act of terrorism. If it was truly the cell phones doing it then they were both either dead or mindless. As heartless as it sounded, I prayed both of them were dead over being mindless. At least if they were dead, they would sleep and wait for Gabriel to blow the trumpet; and they would _not_ be out there killing.

A thousand thoughts seemed to crowd into my head at one time. _"If mindless, was it still a sin to kill? Would good honest people in that state be allowed to enter heaven? If attacked by one of those who had been _zapped_, was it a sin to kill them? Could I kill if I had too?"_

Another moan of defeat answered my question. I could, and would, kill if it meant protecting my son.

"Mickey, buddy boy, we need to run home for a bit."

Big blue eyes greeted my solemn tone. "Sure, Mom… I mean yes ma'am. Dis game aint doin' what I want no how."

I patted his dirty blonde – almost red – hair as he passed me on the way to the door. It was time to take precautions. Every fiber in my body said so.

* * *

Edited: 9/3/07 


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** See chapter one. This is for enjoyment, not profit. English was never my strong point in school.

**Note:** I'm a sporadic reader, meaning I read anything that gets my attention. Unlike most people here, I haven't read a lot of King's works. So far my list consists of Salem's Lot, Pet Cemetery, Misery, The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon (an instant favorite) and Cell. I read the first three books listed years and years ago. Please excuse me if I don't read and review much here in the SK section since I would be lost in fics based on books I haven't read or don't remember well. Sure, I've seen almost every movie of his but I know that the books are always 100 percent better.

-2-

When we had gotten home, I fed my dog and set to packing. The neighborhood was quiet, as always; and added an eerie feel on top of my apprehension. Things seemed so normal for the moment I was almost sure I was dreaming.

Everything around me moved at a snail's pace. Mickey had not questioned me when I told him to pack a few toys in his backpack. He was a trouper; that was for sure.

The dream state continued as I stared at the bag I had packed. An old hiking backpack, given to me years ago, was full nearly to the rim. In the bottom was an extra change of cloths for the two of us. Following that I had packed a first aid kit (survival 101 for any mother), the necessary hygiene products, a bag of chips, a box of crackers and a six pack of Mountain Dew. I was about to add the last detail when the lights blinked.

I double checked the space I had left. Not really giving it much thought, I sprinted to the kitchen and snatched the two flashlights I had. Being ever cautious, I also added a fresh pack of batteries to my load. After stashing them in the bag, I was relieved I still had room for the last item on my list.

I plucked the revolver gently out of my dresser drawer; scattering the laundry that hid it on the floor. Snatching up the two boxes of ammo, I crammed them into the bag while I inspected the gun.

I had never shot a gun. I owned one, but never had a reason or the want to use it. Living on my own, I had taken precautions. Well, almost. If I had taken all the caution I could have, I would have learned to shot the dang thing first. It was a Taurus revolver, hammerless, with a rubber grip. I had chosen a revolver since they had less trouble with jamming. I never wanted to use the thing, but if it was necessary I didn't want the thing to jam.

I nearly crammed the gun into the bag before logic entered my thought process. I dug a box of ammo out and proceeded to load the weapon. Having a small child in the house had me scared enough to think of safety, but not willing to have it loaded.

I could see it now. A burglar/rapist/murder – or whatever – breaks into my home and threatens us. As he does so I raise my hand in protest and speak so calmly, "Excuse me for just a moment. I need to load my gun so I can shoot you."

I chuckled at my own strange humor as I loaded five of the six possible slots. I made sure that the empty chamber was read to fire. I intended to pack the weapon into my pocket and being paranoid wanted to be sure an accident wouldn't get me shot. The gun had a safety switch, but I left it off. If I had never shot a gun I knew myself enough to know that if I needed to, the safety switch would be the last thing I would consider.

It would be faster for me to fire a dry round first than to fumble with the switch.

Mickey's timing was perfect. The gun was tucked into my front pocket and I was pulling my shirt over it when he appeared in the doorway. Setting the bag on my shoulders prompted him to do the same with his own bag. In his small arms he hugged a very limp and very loved stuffed panda I had gotten him on his third birthday. Wherever Mickey went, Panda went too.

On the way across my front yard and back to mom's house, I checked my dog again. I had always been told that animals would act strangely when provoked. Cherokee greeted us from her side of the chain link fence was she always had; her brown eyes full of longing and her tail going a thousand miles a minute. She was a good dog. We adopted her two years ago as a puppy and she lived up to the standards of any chocolate lab I had known. Trustworthy, protective and loyal.

Before entering the house, I loaded both bags into the back seat of my SUV. The police and fire sirens I had heard earlier had died down but not completely. They were further away.

The power waited until I had entered the house to die completely. Since it was the house I had spent most my life in, it was easy for me to maneuver enough to reach the back bed room and retrieve my father's flashlight. The sun was hanging low and I didn't need the flashlight immediately, but I did feel better keeping it close.

Being a typical four year old, Mickey stayed close to me the whole time. I had tried on numerous occasions to purge his fear of the dark. So far I hadn't struck gold so he was literally glued to me.

Once back in my mom's office, I picked up Scrap Face and inspected it. It had half a charge. Using the only logical train of thought I could muster, I opened it up and preceded to text message my brother. I knew that I would probably never see my parents again, but there was still hope for Shawn.

I entered a short text, cursing as I fumbled with the small buttons.

'Text me! No call! Do not make call on cell. Cell make you crazy. No joke. No use cell phone.'

I pushed the send button as I grimaced at my message. Text messaging was so frustrating for me that all my messages came out as if Mickey had edited them. I pushed Scrap Face into my jacket pocket; not expecting a call back. But if there was one thing I never had a short supply of it was hope.

Shawn had said he was going fishing today. He did that frequently and he did it alone. It was a ploy of his to get away from his wife for a while and take a break.

I tried my best not to think about his wife. She was crazy enough. How he ended up with someone like her was beyond all reasoning. She was, in short, a gold digger and my brother was far from rich. Regardless, she did suck him for everything she could.

If she had been hit by this pulse thing, I couldn't care less. Yeah, for someone who tried to be a good Christian, I could have some evil thoughts. Her welfare didn't concern me. What worried me was the thought of my niece and nephew who were with her. Both of them were younger than Mickey and defenseless if she had used her phone.

I took a long look at my left wrist and smiled ironically at the Mickey Mouse watch. Having been such a big Disney fan I had obviously named my own son after a cartoon mouse. Smiling like an idiot, despite the turmoil in me, I watched in a trance as the second hand twitched around the face. It was shortly after six. I had spent longer at home than I intended. Time only seemed to move slowly, when it was me working at a snail's pace instead.

My cell beeped and brought me from limbo. I seemed to be frequently zoning out and it was beginning to bother me. I dug Scrap Face out of my pocket and flipped it open. I nearly cried when I had a return message from Shawn.

'I know. Kirk is w/me. Can't find Judy. My kids… I think they are… We'r going to EA in Raleigh. Tell who you can to meet there.'

Shawn was alive. I could gather from his message that my niece and nephew hadn't been so lucky. He wouldn't say, but I knew. He was too dedicated a father to leave without them. He also had made the point not to ask about anyone else. He didn't want to get his hopes up. Knowing I was alive would be enough to persuade him to travel with his neighbor, Kirk.

He was in Grandville County. Closer to the Virginia line, it would take longer for him to make it to Raleigh. I also had enough wit to understand that the roads wouldn't be clear. I was sure the accident I had witnessed was small compared to many of the roadways.

Locking every door in the house, I set up the living room for our stay. Early October in North Carolina left the nights cool and the days warm. Because of the job I had I was accustomed to getting up around 3 in the morning. That is when I planed to leave with Mickey. We would get an early start and see if there was any truth to meeting at the EA in Raleigh.

I don't know if it was a premonition or just paranoia, but I didn't want to stay cramped up in one spot for too long. Being a mother, I knew that leaving the house would mean taking my son out into the newly remodeled world; but I also knew there was no running away from this. No where in the world was safe and even the smallest hope of not having to go through it alone was enough to push me into action.

After tucking Mickey in on one couch, I set up on the other one. Despite the amount of convincing I had done on myself, I was disheartened that mom and dad hadn't returned. Memories of my parents and my brother's kids played endless loops in my head. Lying on the couch I cried myself to sleep.

-3-

Like clockwork, I was up and moving at three in the morning. A dreamless night was welcomed after everything that had happened. I checked on Mickey before I went to the bathroom. After I was done I moved back to the living room and retrieved one of the flashlights.

First thing on my to-do list was to load Mickey's stroller. We hadn't used it in a while since we rarely made trips that required a lot of walking. If I was correct about the roads, I would definitely need it. Once that was done I left a note taped to the front door behind the screen to announce my where-a-bouts in the small hopes that someone would actually read it.

The weather was mild and not bad. Making this assessment was necessary since I didn't want Mickey sick. Yeah, I'm a real protective mother but that wasn't going to change any time soon.

Both my bag and Mickey's bag made a temporary home on the back floorboard. With Mickey loaded in his car seat and Cherokee in the passenger seat, I set to leave the neighborhood.

The quickest way to Raleigh was to travel back the way I had come from work. If nothing much had changed then the roads that way would be clear for the part of the way. I would have to avoid the truck and school bus, but I really wanted to drive as much as possible.

Mickey was fast asleep behind me, which I was thankful for. I was sure to pass my dad's truck and my mom's car. Part of me didn't want to go that way, but another part did – and for just that. It all came down to closure. I knew I would go on with the smallest amount of belief that they were still alive if it wasn't confirmed.

The SUV moved at a creeping speed as I approached the school bus. Night crowded around my windows as my headlights illuminated the road ahead of me. I was constantly darting my eyes around; checking for anyone who might approach my car.

The yellow bus was an easy target to find. I slowed even further as I scanned the area. It was quiet. The silence only added to the eeriness around me. The whole world seemed to be under a blanket. If not for the moon, which hid mostly under clouds, and my headlights, I would have felt both deaf and blind.

I moaned softly as I spied my mom's car parked on the right shoulder. The front door was opened. I stopped beside it and shifted into park. Lowering the window, I swept the flashlight across the driver's seat. It was empty.

Cherokee regarded me with a brief look of knowing before she hung her head out the window. The dog was smart and I wasn't worried about her jumping ship. She was bonded to Mickey and I knew she wouldn't abandon him; or me for that matter.

I also knew that mom wouldn't have left her door open unless there had been trouble. This was evidence enough, but I shifted back into drive and crept along anyway. Only a few feet in front of mom's car sat dad's truck. It was closed and deserted.

I moved along and stopped beside the back of the bus. What I needed now was another touch with reality. I had to be sure my overactive imagination hadn't run off and dragged me along. Rolling down my window, I used the flashlight to inspect the ground behind the bus.

With both windows down, a soft breezy drifted around me. The smell of night was tainted with an odor not yet unpleasing but very unsettling. I wasn't an expert but my instincts told me I was smelling death. Cherokee groaned lightly as if she were confirming my thoughts.

My flashlight found the young kid still sprawled on the asphalt. In morbid curiosity I violated his corpse with my eyes. His mouth was hung open in an infinite scream. Eye robbed of life stared off into the night. Blood caked his dark hair and his body was twisted uncomfortably.

I leaned out the window and regurgitated everything my stomach had to offer. The boy was less than a decade older than my own son. He was a child. He hadn't even lived his life before it had been stripped from him. I was sick not just for him, but for every child that had suffered. And for any child who would still suffer.

Once I was done, I quickly extinguished the flashlight and sat back in the car. A few napkins from the glove box, with the help of the baby wipes I kept stashed between the seats did a good clean-up job. Before I continued, I grabbed one of the warm cans of Mountain Dew. Warm sodas had never been to my liking, but the taste was welcomed anyway. I needed something to keep myself from throwing up again and the warm sting from the soda did the trick.

As I continued to push the car forward, the only thing that kept me from losing all my wit was the very thing sitting behind me. Four years ago I became a mother. I was engaged, but that didn't last to see Mickey's second birthday. Patrick had left to find himself, leaving me in charge of the life we had brought into this world. As screwed up as life had been, I never backed down from my responsibility to my child; and I wasn't about to start now. If my son was going to live, it was up to me to see to it.

But I didn't want to do it alone. I might not have been much of a social animal, sticking mostly to myself, but I wasn't a loner either. I knew I could be strong, but I wasn't sure how long I had until I broke down.

Steadily I made it to the site of the eighteen wheeler. So far I hadn't encountered any traffic I couldn't maneuver around. Besides the bus scene, I had only passed a couple of cars. One had crashed into a tree and the other appeared to have been abandoned.

I had also seen no people. At night it was easy to imagine that no one was left on earth aside from one's self. Tonight that feeling was dominating.

Though the eighteen wheeler covered most of the road, I was still able to use the shoulder to get around it. The car that had hit it earlier was still there, but the cop cars were gone. I couldn't see a lot, but I was sure the driver had died on impact. As for the truck driver, I had no clue – nor did I want to know.

The traffic was sparse and I was able to pass the Raleigh line with hardly any trouble. It helped that I lived only a few miles from the Raleigh-Durham border. It wasn't until I was mostly down highway 70 before cars began to really litter the roads.

For half a mile, I was able to either squeeze around the wrecks or use the median. Highway 70 would have plenty of open space until it changed to Glenwood Avenue. This, unfortunately, didn't help me as I approached the bridge crossing over Westgate Road. The road was blocked with no way around it.

Having visited Raleigh frequently, I knew of several ways to reach the EAC (Entertainment Arena Center) in Raleigh. I was sure that even those ways would be blocked worse than this way. I had half a tank of gas left, but didn't see the point in trying to find another way around.

I parked the SUV on the shoulder and rolled the windows up.

"Alright, Chickie-do, you stay here for just a minute and keep an eye on the boy. We're going for a walk."

Cherokee simply regarded me with big brown eyes as I got out. Around the back, I unfolded Mickey's stroller. First I loaded Mickey's toys into the storage area under the stroller. On top of that I crammed our sweaters, which had taken up residence in my back seat. A sleeping Mickey was added after I had secured my own pack on my back.

I wrapped a blanket around him, mostly for the wind and not for the weather. It was very comfortable out and perfect for an early morning stroll. Conveniently, Cherokee jumped over the front seats and waited for me to gather her lease before jumping out of the car.

I looped her lease around my wrist and held the flashlight with my other hand. Gripping the flashlight and stroller at one time was awkward, but doable. I started out at a steady pace, determined to explore my surroundings as little as possible. The site I had witnessed of the kid earlier had been enough to last a life time. Still, curiosity led me to divert my attention anyway.

I must have gone numb, because when I reached the first body I didn't react. The woman was frozen in the same terror the boy had been in. Her shirt was torn open and blood decorated her whole frame.

I didn't stop to inspect her as I had the boy. I continued to sweep my flashlight around despite my better judgment. By the time I had walked perhaps a fourth of a mile, I had counted ten bodies. Each included a fair share of blood.

"Where's the blood drive when you need it?" I mumbled to myself. I knew making smart remarks like that were a defensive mechanism, but I couldn't and wouldn't stop.

I wasn't an athlete by any stretch of the imagination, but one thing I could do was walk for miles without stopping. The only thing that posed a problem for me was the hills highway 70 was paved over. Inadvertently I kept a steady pace.

I never kept up with how many miles I had gone through the numerous times I had driven the stretch of road. By the time I reached Lenard Road, I was tired and my legs ached. The body count had reached a grand total of twenty-five and I was sure it exceeded that. I had yet to encounter anyone, crazy or not, still alive.

According to my watch, it was five in the morning when I turned on Lenard. I needed to stop for a while and wanted to get inside somewhere. I knew a grocery store was close and given the current state of things was the best place for a break. Mickey would wake up hungry and Cherokee was always up for a good meal. The chips in my bag wouldn't last long.

I paid the parking lot little attention as I crossed to the front doors. Since the power was out, the doors were frozen shut. Prying them open wasn't easy, but I managed the task with little frustration. Once I was inside, I pushed them back the best I could and scanned the area.

Hanging over the first cash register I came to was another corpse. A young girl, probably in her late teens, had been mauled to death on the conveyer line.

"Well, I'm sure that violates code," I whispered. With stubborn determination I stepped further into the store. I wasn't going to let one dead body force me to leave. Still, I had to be sure that a few dead bodies would be all I found before I felt safe enough to stay.

-4-

Like it or not, my bouncing baby boy of innocence would soon be getting a lesson about the other side of life. Death. After what I had seen, it was evident I wouldn't be able to censer him from _this_. I only prayed he was young enough to be more emotionally capable of handling it than I was. Kids had a way of bouncing back quicker. He would be looking to me for guidance. All I had to do was keep my wits about me.

Investigating the store further revealed a huge mess. Food products of all kinds littered the floors. The sun would be coming up in less than 2 hours. At that time I could make a better assessment.

I pushed the stroller into a checkout lane that had been closed during business hours; leaving it mostly free from clutter. I wanted to investigate the store more thoroughly. The thought had crossed my mind that just because I had been lucky so far, I might still encounter trouble.

"Should have waited until it was day, Helen," I scolded myself. I had wanted to start the journey while Mickey was asleep so to shield him. No amount of shielding would hide the truth from him. I knew that now.

I left Mickey under the watchful eye of Mother Cherokee and stepped further into the store. Heaps of canned, bagged and boxed groceries were scattered everywhere. It seemed half the inventory had been attacked. Some food still remained untouched on the shelves.

I never walked out of site from Mickey. I flashed my light on him frequently as I turned in a full circle. My limited scope produced three more bodies. Two were faced down in a pool of drying blood. The third was a man in his mid forties.

Something about the man struck me as odd. His face was stained in patches with blood. The collar of his shirt was torn. Putting all that aside, he was in far better condition than the other three corpses in the store. I moved three steps closer; kicking the wasted food out of my way.

Kneeling, I leaned in for a closer look. His eyes were wide open and vacant; but moist. His mouth was ajar slightly and not in the scream I had come to expect. I leaned in even closer. My eyes traveled from his face to his chest. His chest was moving. He was alive!

Setting the flashlight on the floor, I drew the gun from my pocket. He was alive, but I couldn't be sure what state he was in. He could have been zapped or maybe he wasn't. Perhaps he had witnessed something he couldn't quite get over and had simply lied down in mental exhaustion.

I reached out a shaking hand. My fingers were mere centimeters from his shoulder when the first sound outside any I had made intruded.

"Don't! He's one of _them_."

I jumped; grabbing the flashlight as I twisted toward the voice. Reflexively my hand squeezed the gun, firing the dry round. Straight on my left, huddled defensively against the racks, was another man. Blonde hair waved in disarray around his pale face. His brown haunted eyes seemed to meet my apprehensive blue eyes before he blinked furiously at the beam of my flashlight. I could see tale tell bags under his eyes announcing sleep deprivation.

"Who are you?" I demanded. I had wanted to sound forceful, but only managed to portray my own fear.

"Simon. I'm not on of them, I swear." He shifted, holding a hand up to shield his eyes. "Please, can ya get that thing outta my face?"

"Oh," I replied, lowering the flashlight to the floor between us. "Sorry."

The white tile floor did a decent job at reflecting the light. Behind me the sun had started to peek out. A faint orange glow from the windows did little to help with the light, but the sun would be up before long.

"Hey. Look. I." Simon seemed to trip over his words. "I see ya got a gun."

"Yeah. The world's coming to an end and I'm packing." My tone was sarcastic but soft. "Sunday school taught us to be ready for the Apocalypse, but they never said we couldn't fight back."

Clearly he had mistaken my sarcasm for a trigger happy attitude. He scooted back slightly. "N-no, that's not what I meant. That guy right there might wake up."

Hours of no contact with anyone alive had disoriented my senses. I had forgotten about the man I sat so close to. Falling way from him, I snatched up the flashlight and aimed it at him. He hadn't changed.

"He was zapped, wasn't he?"

"Zapped?" Simon responded. "I guess he was if that's what ya callin' it. When it all happened I was just picking up a few things for dinner. It all happened so damn fast. Several people just went berserk."

"Let me guess," I intruded. "The ones that went berserk were on their cell phones?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess. The ones I saw go mental were."

I nodded. Simon, I knew, wasn't a threat. Terror laced his voice though I wasn't sure who scared him the most: a zappy in a sleep state or a sarcastic chick carrying a gun.

"When they started attacking the sane ones, and themselves, I managed to dodge somehow. I guess they had their share of the daily food special – including a side of human flesh – and left the store. That guy didn't make it out before the power died."

I had to commend his sarcastic streak. It was a good chance that we would get along just fine; unless he freaked on me. I was almost sure he hadn't left the store himself because he was too scared. Being a chick, I did expect a man to be stronger than me, but I found that wasn't always the case. Still, I liked Simon so far and his company was very much welcomed.

"You sure he's the only one here?"

"Positive," he answered immediately. "When the power died I was in the back of the store. I searched for survivors and found him. I thought about making a run for it, but no telling what I'd find outside. I kept track of him while he wondered the store. At one time I tried to call for help, but all lines were busy."

"There's no way to call for help." My voice was flat. It made me wince to hear my usual up beat self so emotionless. But hey, twenty-five plus bodies could do that to a person.

I explained briefly to Simon what I had encountered starting with the truck wreck on Alexander Drive. When I had finished I stood and took a few steps back to check on Mickey. As I had left him, he was still snoozing. Cherokee had curled up beside the strolled and helped herself to a nap.

The sun was making a steady upward journey. The line of light inched slowly across the floor. The store was filled with pockets of shadows. When I glanced to check on Mickey again, I noticed that Cherokee was awake. Her chocolate fir was standing on end. A deep seated growl vibrated in her throat.

I didn't wait for her to tell me what was wrong. I knew.

I turned back to the _zappy_. He was no longer lying on the floor. He was standing. From the waist up he was shrouded in the early morning light. His arms hung limply at his side as he stared out the window. He moved to take a step toward the front of the store and stopped. His head swung slightly in my direction as his blank eyes seemed to target me.

"Oh shit!" I dropped the flashlight and raised the gun with both hands.

His feet, one shoed and the other bare, scrapped the floor as he twitched his body around to face me. "Shew noy feshy!" he screeched.

I had no idea what he had said, but I was sure he wasn't asking me out for breakfast. He wasn't my type anyway. I preferred men with half a brain – at least.

Like a child learning to walk, he shuffled toward me. A dull ache radiated from both shoulders and elbows as I held the gun up. Finger on trigger, I was ready to shoot. But I didn't. I froze.

"Stop!" I yelled in a whisper. My voice had failed me.

_Could I kill? I could, and would, if it meant protecting my son._

He stepped closer. There was a foot left between the barrel of my gun and his chest. I lifted the revolver and aimed for his head. "Please stop."

A can of peas made a sudden impact with his skull. His balance faltered only slightly. Lines of anger formed in his brow. From the same direction a can of lima beans followed the same path of the peas; nailing him above his ear.

In my frozen state of wonderment, I began to ponder where the cans had come from. I started to tread toward the idea of poltergeists when Simon yelled at me.

"Shoot him! For God's sake shoot him!"

As if his command controlled me, I pulled the trigger. The gun kicked and I feared I had missed. Deafened by the shot, I watched as the man fell backwards. Pain echoed through both of my arms. I couldn't move. I had just shot a man.

The first sound to reach my ears was from Mickey. The gun shot had startled him out of sleep. He was crying and calling me frantically. I didn't wait to see if the man was down for good. I left that task to Simon as I hastily sat the revolver under the stroller. Shaking hands worked fast to loosen Mickey from the stroller's safety harnesses and into my arms.

Cherokee let out one bark and startled Mickey again. His small hands reached around my neck and held fast to my hair. I had pulled the top of my hair back, leaving Mickey to grab at what trailed down my back.

"It's okay, buddy boy, Mama's gottcha." I rocked him until his tears subsided.

Through all of this, Simon had followed me into the casher's lane. "Well, you got him. He aint getting' up from that. What kind of person carries a gun and don't use it?"

A small light of anger ignited in me. I extinguished it quickly. Now was a time for people to come together, not fight. That, and Simon had saved my life back there. If he hadn't decided to throw those cans at the zappy and yell at me I don't think I would have done more than just stand there.

I answered his question in pure honesty. "A pacifist, that's who."

* * *

edited 9/3/07 


	3. Chapter 3

**Note:** Shorter chapter this time. And as it might be guessed, this is based on my personal life. I read somewhere that it is always best to write about what you know (that and it keeps me from having to do massive amounts of research). So, yes, I really did have a cat that lived 19 years…and most of the other stuff here is true – but it is slightly adjusted and altered to suit the story. Simon is a completely fictional character. Small pointless fact is that I chose his name after my Kindergarten boyfriend who I haven't seen since first grade. So Simon is only named after someone I know since I have no idea what the boy I went to school with grew up to be like.

-5-

It was a breakfast like none other in the history of my life. I settled Mickey up in the isle that was home to all the cheaply made toys. I had opened a number of packages, not stopping as I dumped the contents on the floor. The isle was clear of most debris and for once in my life I didn't fret about how dirty the floor was. When the world had turned into one big matter of life and death, being sanitary took the back seat.

Mickey played happily with his new treasure of toys as Simon raided the shelves. Breakfast was a montage of Beenie-Weenie, Coco-Puffs, Spam and animal crackers. Potted meat was piled generously on the floor for Cherokee. I set a package of Oreo cookies to the side. I would take those with me. Sugar was one thing I wasn't about to be without.

Mickey looked up at me; his big eyes peering over the fork he was using to eat his canned meat. "Mama? Is this sealing?"

I smiled; holding back a laugh at Simon's questioning expression. "No, buddy boy. We're not stealing."

"Or sealing!" Simon chuckled.

As I packed the Oreos, a few juice boxes and two bottles of Gatorade in the stroller, Simon told me the shorten version of his life's story. He was twenty when he moved to Raleigh five years ago. He worked for IBM an engineer until he was laid off three years after his move. Having moved from Charlotte he opted to stay in the area and work as an IT consultant for Computer Direct. His only living family was his mother who moved to Winston-Salem last August. He was dating but so far hadn't landed on anything substantial and I could read the frustration in his voice at that.

I suppose most 25 year old males would have preferred the single life; but not Simon. I could tell by the way he made small talk with Mickey that he was a born father at heart.

In turn, I told him that I had also worked for IBM at one time. I wasn't laid off, but out-sourced to another company where I repaired computers. It wasn't my dream job by a long shot and I had been sure that when I secured a degree in engineering that would all change. It hadn't and I was stuck at a job I found no joy in but it paid the bills. I had closed on my own house, next door to my parents, only six months ago and I couldn't afford to be out of work.

It was shortly after 9 in the morning when we opted to try our luck at leaving the grocery store. The morning air was warm with a nice breeze. Standing in the silence of the parking lot, it was hard to believe that the world was under attack.

It was also easy to imagine that we were the last living people on Earth.

"Now this is eerie…" Simon mumbled.

"Why yes it is," I agreed. "I'm headed to the EAC to meet up with my brother."

I took a few steps listening for Simon to follow. He did and I was almost ecstatic. I really didn't want to be alone with a child and a dog. Every few paces I would glance at Cherokee. She was a good watch dog and I was depending on her to alert us to any danger.

"The ECA? Where is your brother now?"

I weaved around a blue Honda that had collided with a red Corvette. I almost laughed at myself. The world's most illiterate person concerning cars and I was taking notes of what types of cars I saw. Perhaps I was slowly going insane or I was taking mental notes as a way to distract myself. Either way, I wasn't thinking as I normally would.

"Shawn's coming from Granville County. It'll take him a few days unless… Unless he and Kirk stopped by Kirk's house and took the dirt bikes." I grinned at this, hoping I would be reunited with my brother sooner than I anticipated.

"Granville County? If the phones are down, how did you make contact?"

I pulled Scrap Face from my pocket and flashed it at him. "Can't call anyone, but there's no harm in text messaging."

He nodded, tilting his face away from the cell phone. "I never would have thought of that. Of course, I don't carry a cell anyway. I had one, but I dropped it in the toilet last weekend."

I had continued my journey across the parking lot, but had to stop. Smiling coolly, I turned to face him once more. "The toilet? Oh, do tell."

A sheepish smile crossed his lips as he chuckled. "Yeah, well I was at a party for Jose, this guy from the office. We were at The Ale House and things, well, things went like most parties and I had one too many."

I slapped him lightly on the arm. "Normally I would consider a group of drunk guys a very idiotic thing, but I'll make an exception since it probably saved your life."

"Tell me about it," he stated as he followed me around a yellow convertible. "One of the first things I did when all hell broke loose was curse myself for not having a phone."

"Mine was dead, thank God. I would have been a mindless twit if I had charged it."

I looked up past the grassy medium and stopped with a sudden jerk. Simon collided with my back, but not with a lot of force. He arched his neck to see around my head.

Across the street, walking in a group, were five zappies. They had to be zappies; that was all I could think. Their eyes were blank and their movements off. They walked without staggering, but there was something off about the way their muscles responded as they moved. The group consisted of four men and one teenage girl.

Two men led the group; walking close enough to hold hands with they wanted to. The bigger of the two men wore nothing but a pair of boxers. Behind them was the girl. Her hair had fallen halfway down from the pony tail she sported. She was barefooted and her clothing was soiled as if she had fallen in a mud puddle. The two men behind her were worse for wear. One had clearly broken his arm and left it to hang as it would at his side. The other was completely naked with the exception of tube socks that were once white.

"Okay, now I have seen everything."

"Um, yeah, but," Simon stuttered. "What are they doing? I mean, they aren't acting like they were yesterday."

The group passed a few hundred feet in front of us. I held my breath waiting for one or all of them to spot us. My hand instinctively dropped to the butt of the revolver hanging out of my front pocket. None of them even stopped; much less inspected anything in their surroundings.

"It's like their zombies or something. I mean, they act like their being called."

Simon cleared his throat. "You watch a lot of sci-fi don't you?"

"Well, yeah. I also read a lot of fantasy. Believe me; the things going through my mind are numerous."

At that, the scenarios came flying into my mind's eye. Aliens, parallel universes, mad scientist… and the list went on and on. I didn't discount that it could have been an act of terrorism. Or it could have been a government experiment gone wrong. We, the people of Earth, could have finally seen to our own extinction. Still, I couldn't help but to wonder if there wasn't more to the story than met the eye.

"I'm not much into the stuff myself. I might not know what the hell is going on, but I do know one thing. We need to find somewhere to camp out."

"Yeah," I hastily agreed. "It seems the zappies walk at day."

"Zappies? So, is that your official name for them?"

I started walking down the sidewalk in the opposite direction from the zappies. "Yup. Can't call them people. They act more like animals or something."

Simon fell into step with me. "Animals… Yeah, it's like they are migrating or something. That is, unless the alien king from the planet Normack is beckoning them forward to the mother ship."

"I thought you weren't into that stuff."

"Nope, but I am an IT guy. It's an automatic requirement that us IT guys at least know about Star Trek and Star Wars. It's like an unwritten rule and if you don't know it you get left out of the loop."

For the next ten minutes, neither of us spoke much. Somewhere along the way, Simon had taken the lead. His steps started to take on a rhythmic tone; as if he knew where he was going.

"Where are we going, anyway?"

Walking in the silence of a Saturday morning, I kept darting my eyes around for any signs of life. In the distance, birds chirped on schedule. As far at my feathered friends were concerned, there was nothing wrong with the world. What it would be like to be a bird right now. To a point, I felt as if I had sprouted wings. The fear I had encountered in the dawn of the morning felt far off.

I felt like a soldier in the middle of a war. I had gone numb. Even the group of zappies hadn't been enough to spark any emotions other than a slight apprehension. I should have been scared witless, but instead I had just stood there and watched.

I wasn't an expert on fear, but I began to wonder if it were possible to overdose on it. Thoughts were hard to focus on and I was void of panic. I remembered shooting the man point blank. I had been sick to my stomach at the time, but now it was like I recalled that memory from someone else's life.

Helen Ashen wasn't a killer. She wasn't anything but a single mom who did what she had to do for her child. Dreams included finding a man who would love both her and her son. She wanted the all American family but maybe not the white picket fence. She even wanted another child, a girl, eventually.

Dreams like that were distant to me. I knew what I wanted but I knew that in a world like the one I found myself in, those things were not possible.

"If we're going to have to bunk down for the day, my apartment is right around the corner. I figured it would be a good place to hang 'til dark."

"Um," I hummed softly. "IT guys must make out pretty good if we're headed to South Pines."

"Yeah, we're headed to South Pines and I do okay, I guess. But I'm only supportin' myself. What about you? Huh? Just you and a kid."

I cocked an eye at him as our walk took us steadily toward Wilson Street which ran behind the grocery store we had just left. "I don't do that good. The house I bought was from a little old lady who lived there the whole twenty years my parents lived next door. She gave us a discount when she had to move into the old folk's home. I don't really make that much. I just know how to cut corners and what corners to cut."

"Still impressive. Why I…" His words died into the faintest wisp of a breath as we neared the apartment complex.

Another encounter greeted us at the entrance of South Pines Apartments and Town-homes. This encounter did spark emotions. Plenty of them. My mouth grew incredibly dry as I clicked my tongue on the ruff of my mouth.

Slumped against the wooden sign was a corpse. This one was fresh and ripe with buzzing flies. In the living world he had been a homeless man pushing into his golden years. His face was clean from any gore; doing a grand job of fully expressing the anguish he died in. Curled under him was one badly broken leg. His other leg was extended and distorted. Blood soaked his jeans to create a tie-dye effect. His left hand rested, palm up, in his lap as if begging for change to pay Phlegyas his way across the river Styx. His right arm had been torn out of its socket and laid in a pool of drying blood at his side.

The sign propped against his chest read: _HOMELESS, Please help. God Bless._

I dropped Cherokee's leash around the handle of Mickey's stroller and approached the man without a single word. My mind recalled a time not long ago when I had found my cat dead on the doormat. She had been a loving addition to my family for nineteen years before age caught her. The cat I had loved for so long had departed and I was unable to touch what was left behind. I had run to my father, like a child, so he could bury her since I could not.

I did for this man what I never thought I could. I touched him only to close his eyes. It seemed like the right thing to do.

"Now you are home, friend. God Bless," I whispered through trembling lips.

I stood quickly. If I had stayed one second longer I was sure a gush of tears would flood me in an endless assault. I didn't want to cry; not in front of Mickey. If I did, then I was sure I would install my fear into him.

"Helen… You 'kay?"

I nodded softly to Simon as I repositioned Cherokee's leash around my wrist. She moaned slightly, sticking her nose to the air and sniffing. I wasn't sure if she were doing this out of doggie habit or if she were looking for something; but I didn't pay her much attention. If something was wrong, I was sure the dog would indicate such.

"Mama? Is dat man sick?"

Reaching down I stroked Mickey's cheek. "No, buddy boy. He's gone to be with Jesus. He's okay, I promise."

As I said those words to my son, I couldn't help but to doubt my faith. I knew the stories of the flood. Of how man had gotten into too many bad habits and had been eradicated save for Noah. I wondered if God wasn't cleansing the Earth again, or if this really was the domain of the devil. The thought also crept into my mind that it was neither and that we, mankind, were totally on our own.

I looked to the morning sky. Clear blue hues hung behind lazy clouds. It was almost beautiful.

"Helen? What are you lookin' for?"

I chuckled and when I did I sounded insane to myself. "A rainbow. I want to see a rainbow so I know it's over."

I could feel Simon's eyes on me. I knew he was lost as to what I was talking about.

"Simon? Ever go to church?"

"Not since I was a boy. Why?"

I lowered my gaze to his eyes. "Noah's Ark. I'm looking for the rainbow; God's promise that it's finally over."

I felt Simon's hand close gently around my arm. He pulled me tenderly toward the sidewalk. "Until the rainbow comes, let's get inside. I don't want to chance an encounter with more _zappies._ Thank you very much; but no thanks."

I let him lead the way. The complex was new; having been build only two years ago. The wooden shingles sported a practically new coat of dull grey-brown paint. Shrubs and bushes lined scenically along every wall. Short grass, neatly trimmed and maintained, only added to the perfection the designers had aimed for.

It would have been perfect too, if not for some damage. The damage wasn't extensive, but it stuck out like a soar thumb. Windows on every story were broken in places. Blood stained spots on the fresh paint; creating eye-soars. If there were bodies (and judging by the smell, there were) then they were not in plain sight. I guess in high value places like this; even the dead are courteous enough not to be exposed.

If Simon was inspecting his home turf, he wasn't stopping to do so. He seemed to speed up slightly and I couldn't blame him. At that very instant, I wanted nothing more than to be inside somewhere. The smell wasn't bad, but it wasn't exactly good either.

We made it without further incident to Simon's place. He lived on the second floor in a one bed room apartment. It was sparsely furnished but cozy all the same. He had entered first. I stopped at the doorway, remembering my manners.

"Do you mind if Cherokee comes in. I'm sure the front office will make an exception to the pet rule just this once."

He turned and faced me with a genuine grin. I felt my heart warm up to that grin – it was a lady killer grin and I liked it. "Normally I would ask if she's house trained, but it honestly doesn't matter. I have this feeling I won't be coming back here when we leave tonight."

I removed Cherokee's leash after closing to door behind me. A huge double window in the living room was opened and the sun illuminated the area completely. Cherokee wandered into the kitchen; sniffing her new environment.

I then unbuckled Mickey from the stroller before he got tired of confinement. I found a spot on the carpet and put his backpack of toys down. He eyed his treasures contently before setting off to do his own exploring in Simon's apartment.

After reminding Mickey to stay where I could see him, I made myself at home on Simon's imitation leather couch. The walls were completely bare; leaving no room to doubt this was a bachelor pad. It was refreshing. The simplicity of it was welcomed in comparison to the world on the other side of the front door.

We passed a couple of hours talking mostly about past experiences. If not for the pending gloom pressing in from the window I would have felt more like I was out visiting with a friend.

A funny thing about end of the world experiences was that anyone could make instant friends. I have always been good natured and able to attract people for even a small amount of time, but I was never out going enough to create a plethora of friendships. Simon already felt like more than an acquaintance. In sad truth he was my war buddy.

When crankiness settled in on Mickey around noon, Simon offered his bed as a napping spot. I found odd comfort that there was no hesitation on his part to offer and none on my end to receive. Being away from home was more strenuous on the toddler than the adults, so I rested with Mickey as he slipped into sleep. Unintentionally, I slipped into my own sleep.

* * *

Edited 9/8/07 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes:** I have to really work on Mickey's speech. Since he's based on my own son, I'm trying my best to duplicate his speech at the age of four. He's six now and I find myself trying to write Mickey's parts in the language of a six year old – but then again, each child is different…in fact, my nephew is four and can speak better than most eight year olds.

And for the curious, I do know how I'm going to end this – I've just got to figure out how to get there. Honestly, I'm still playing around with what Simon's full role will be.

-6-

When I woke, shadows had crept onto the bedroom window. The sun still shone brilliantly outside; but it had traveled into the western sky. Night was still hours away. I had always liked the night time. It was peaceful and serine. Now it was also a source of safety.

Life was always throwing ironic twist in and we were left with no choice but to catch them.

Mickey stirred under the arm I had draped over him. Soft moans puffed from his slack lips. I rose on my elbow and inspected him. His face twisted in distaste. Another moan, louder, crawled from his throat.

"Mickey?" I shook him slightly to wake him from his nightmare. "Mama's here. Come on buddy boy, wake up for mama."

Mickey opened his large blue eyes. After allowing his vision to swim across the ceiling for a few short seconds, he found me. Once recognition set in, the tears came. He reached out for me while sobbing. With his arms locked around my neck, he no longer held back. He wailed.

Within seconds Simon appeared at the door. "Is he 'kay? What's wrong?"

I twisted on the bed, bringing Mickey off the sheets and into my lap. "He had a nightmare. He'll be fine."

I tried to smile and succeeded when I got a good look at Simon. Apparently he had fallen asleep on the couch. His yellow hair jetted from his scalp far from uniformity.

I stood, keeping a very clingy Mickey in my arms. Simon retreated, allowing me passage out of the bed room. Once in his living room the first thing to draw my attention was the dog perched attentively at the window. The blinds had been raised to allow natural light in.

As my footsteps softly reached Cherokee, her ears perked but her eyes did not waver. Curiosity bound me to observe her point of interest. I used my free hand to pet her lightly on the head as I approached the window.

One story below us, trampling the lush grass, a steady stream of zappies ventured. Just beyond the grass were a sidewalk and the main road. Lenard Road, the same road I had used the night before, gave way to an assault as more zappies treaded along the asphalt.

It was strange to watch them walk. For some reason I was expecting to see something straight from Resident Evil. I shivered. I couldn't understand why, but deep in my gut I was wishing for blood thirsty zombies over what I was witnessing. I tried to rationalize with myself to no avail. These – whatever they had become – were not killing anymore. Their uniformity was what was frightening.

"Mama?" Mickey's voice was small and unsteady. "I don see da lady."

Keeping my eyes on the wanderers below, I turned my face slightly in his direction. "What lady?"

"Da lady who hurt really bad."

Now he had my full attention. "Mickey, what lady. Please, help me understand."

He pointed a pudgy finger, touching the glass. "Der. I saw her standing by da tree."

Across the yard was a single tree. Obviously the designers had stationed the tree alone so to add some form of landscaping beauty.

"I didn't see any lady there. Are you sure Mickey?"

He hummed. "In my dweam. She was right there and with lots of boo-boos."

I looked at Simon who had turned pale. He turned his head slowly to return my stare. There was dullness in his eyes. With slack lips his mouth hung slightly ajar.

"Simon?"

"I…dreamed…"

In one quick rush, I jumped to the nearest conclusion my sci-fi mind had grasped. "Don't tell me – you dreamed of her too?"

"Well…no, not really."

"Then what?"

When he didn't respond fast enough I grunted. My grunt must have shaken him loose from what ever trance he was under. His eyes darted straight for the tree and then back to me.

"I didn't dream of a lady, but I did dream of a lot of…blood marks on that tree."

If it hadn't been my sweet, innocent child who had told me with such honesty I don't think I would have believed it. Simon had no reason to lie; and judging by how much color his face lost I was sure he wasn't.

"But, I didn't dream a thing. Well, I did dream. But not of this place."

His brown eyes regained some pigment. "What did you dream?"

I nodded my head and released a nervous chuckle. "My dreams are a bit…strange. They really don't make much sense. They never have."

I paused long enough to put Mickey on the floor beside Cherokee. He hugged the dog with one arm. His other hand pressed to the window as he observed the parade below. Under normal circumstances I would have censored him from the view; but normal wasn't reality and I knew I couldn't hide the truth from him. Most parents strive to hide things from their kids; and with good reason. Though I would often choose my words when explaining things, I never tried to hide the truth from my child. He needed to learn to survive in the world and I wouldn't always be there for him. I never knew until that moment just how much his survival depended on reality.

"What about your dream?" I asked Simon. "Was that all there was?"

Simon hesitated but once he looked me in the eyes, he found strength. "No…there was this voice. It was more like a disembodied voice coming from outside but inside all at once. It said to make way to the capital."

"Capital of what?" As soon as the words left my mouth I mentally slapped myself. The dream had installed apprehension in Simon and was more like a nightmare than a dream. He was clearly afraid of something and I was letting his fear infect me.

"I'm not sure but I had the feeling it wanted me to travel east."

I caught myself before I asked about this 'it'. Instead, I added just enough harshness to my voice to deter any further discussion but not to the point I came across uncaring – a skill learned by most parents. "It was just a dream. Let's try to worry more about what we do next. I intend to get to the EAC one way or the other."

"Well then I suggest we get set to head out at sun down. The only thing bothering me is that we are going to same direction they are."

I followed his finger to the window. The steady stream of zappies had just started to dwindle. I glanced at my watch. Only two hours left till dark.

-7-

My mother half was at war with my sensible half as I watched Mickey walk along side Cherokee. He was in no mood for the stroller and I knew the exercise would be good for him. Still, I was ready to grab him on a moment's notice. If trouble came up, I wanted to be able to pull him from harm's way.

The night was dark and the absence of street lights only added a feeling of despair to it. To the left and right Simon and I were able to shine enough light to guide us efficiently. Mickey's beam bobbed sporadically. He played with his flashlight and I didn't have the heart to spoil his fun.

For the first few hours neither of us talked. Occasionally Mickey would refer to a horror flick I had caught him watching one day. I had promptly turned the channel but not before the boy was struck with a fascination of mummies.

"It's quiet."

There. I had just voiced the main concern on my mind. Even the normal night sounds were muted. There were no crickets, which did tend to stay up even in October. North Carolina is known for its ever changing climate. This is a place where spring and fall merely last a week or two. Usually winter was marked when the temperature went from seventy eight degrees one day to thirty six the next.

"I don't like it."

I hummed my agreement with Simon. "Where is everyone? I'm glad we haven't run into any zappies, but where are the norms?"

"Perhaps," he spoke in a cracking voice, "we are the only one's left."

"Well then, maybe we should just stop here and start construction on our tree houses. Whatcha say? Get married and teach our kids to swing from vine to vine and live off tha land?"

He gave me a weary smile. "Do you always do that?"

"Do what?"

"Try and make light of every hard situation in your way."

I shrugged. "I guess. I've always been an optimistic pacifist. When life throws crap at me I try my best to laugh about it. It's been the only thing that's gotten me through some really tough times."

"I can understand that. I mean, raising a child alone."

I waved my hand dismissively. "Raising Mickey is something I would never give up. I hear a lot of women look for pity over being a single mom. It's not easy, but it's worth it. I don't want, nor do I think I've earned pity. In fact there are advantages to being a single mom. Tax returns…having free rein to discipline him the way I see fit…my whole college education was paid for because of him. And those things are only material things. I've got a strong bond with him. And he helps me through a lot of struggles because I find the strength to handle a lot more than I thought possible just thinking of what I can do for him."

"You are a strange creature, Helen Ashen. Your humor is silly mixed with sarcasm, but when ya talk about Mickey your whole persona changes."

I patted him on the shoulder. "Thanks, I think. Anyway, if my sarcasm runs away with me then let me know. I'm anxious to see my brother. I can't stop worrying about him and probably wont until I see he's okay for myself."

About that time Mickey stopped ahead of us. Shining the light under his chin he started to moan. He raised one hand in front of him, palm down and fingers dangling. "I am the mommy! Grrrr. Beware the mommy's curse."

I couldn't help it. That one act of pure innocence sent me into an uncontrollable laughing fit.

"Well then, there's no doubtin' that's your youngin. He's got his mom's sense of humor alright."

It took me several minutes to recover from Mickey's mummy act and Simon's comment. When I did I was startled back to reality with a jolt. We weren't a lone anymore.

Two more people had approached us. The engulfing dark made it hard to see, but they were both male and appeared to be sane. Or at least I was hoping they were sane since they were in closer proximity to Mickey than I approved of.

Both men were considerably old. The one that introduced himself as Mack had a full head of white hair. His partner, Benny, hadn't been graced to keep his hair. Both seemed friendly enough, but my guard went up automatically.

"So, where yaw headed to?" Mack asked. His southern draw was crisper than most. I found it charming because it reminded me of the grandfather I lost nearly 15 years ago.

"Nowhere in particular," Simon answered before I could catch my voice.

I moved closer to Mickey until I had my arm around his shoulders. "How about you two?"

"Well miss, seems we're headed east," Benny replied. He raised an eyebrow. "Had any indication to head that way yurselves?"

"Da lady with the boo-boos told ya to go, didn't her?"

I pulled Mickey closer to me and shushed him gently. "Let's not talk about that, okay buddy boy?"

"No," Mack said taking half a step closer to us. I could tell he was keeping his distance at a respectful length. He obviously didn't want to frighten either of us. "He's right."

I inspected his face before movement grabbed my attention. Wavering my eyes from Mack I found that Cherokee had taken a liking to Benny. She sat contently at his side as he scratched her diligently behind the ears.

"So you saw that lady too?"

At that moment I was glad Simon was out of range. I wanted nothing more than to slap him. I had convinced myself hours ago that the fantasy of a shared dream was fiction. I didn't need to be reminded of it.

"Sure did. Thought it was just a dream until Benny here said he saw the same. Now I'm not one to go believin' in rubbish like that but takin' what's goin' on round here it don't seem like a bad notion."

I bit down on my bottom lip until it throbbed. I was flabbergasted and didn't even know how to respond to this conversation. At the same time the morbid part of me felt left out. I didn't understand why everyone had dreamed of something and why I was left out of the loop.

"Mack here thinks it might be some form of shared hysteria but I thinks it's the work of the good Lord. He's roundin' up the sheep, he is."

"Either way," Mack said picking up where Benny left off, "we think the only way to find out is to see fer ourselves."

"That's odd…" Simon mumbled to himself loud enough for us to hear. "Mickey saw the lady, I only hear her. Helen didn't dream it at all."

"Ya don't say," Mack replied giving me a query look. "And what did ya dream 'bout?"

I shook my head, recalling vividly what I had dreamed of. Yesterday, as I slept I dreamt of making it to the EAC. The dream started off pleasant enough until I actually got inside the arena. Once white walls presented mural after mural of bloody hand prints. Splattered gore rested lifeless along corners. Bones littered the floors. And my brother was there; but already dead. His head had been strategically placed on the floor waiting for me to find it.

I made a face that was unmistakable. In short order, the men backed away and allowed me room to run to the nearest clear spot. Once again I found the entire contents of my stomach scattered along the ground.

After I was done regurgitating, I gagged. Oh how I hated throwing up. I never even threw up when I was pregnant! I felt shame that recalling a dream could cause me to purge myself so hastily. It was just a dream after all. There was no lady in _my_ dreams.

By the time I had straightened up, Simon and Mickey were by my side.

"Helen?"

"I'm fine. Just stressed out. I always get like this when I'm stressed." I hadn't lied but hadn't told the full truth. I would get nauseated when extremely stressed but never this bad.

Simon stretched his arm around my shoulder; giving me much needed support. Every time my eyes closed I could see the decapitated head of my brother. His eyes were wide open in fear but his lips were slack without concern. An odd combination that added just the right hint to flip my stomach over. Along with blood matted hair, he was the perfect picture of a B rated horror flick. Only, the special effects were all too real.

"I'm sorry," I apologized in a shaky voice. I wrapped my mind around every image I could to force the nightmarish memory away.

My head was spinning as I glanced around. Both men were looking at me with clear concern and Mickey was giving me his saddest face. I steadied myself and broke way from Simon. After fishing out a bottle of water, along with two aspirin, I sat on the curb to enjoy my replacement meal. The aspirin didn't fill my stomach but it did help my head.

"If-in it's okay with you folks, I think we would be safer travelin' together."

I started to disapprove before Simon cut me off. "Yeah, I think that's a great idea."

Boy he was lucky I was sitting and he was standing. That was the second slap he would have received if not for the obstacle of distance. It wasn't that I didn't like Mack and Benny. Neither one of them gave me the creeps. What I didn't want near me were a couple of guys that would promote more talk of dreams.

If it weren't for the freaky gang of zappies earlier and this whole 'end of the world' bit, I would have found talk of shared visions fascinating. The truth of it was that I was scared. I understood that my fear was holding me back from my normal friendly behavior, but I couldn't help it. These dreams were scaring me more than the zappies.

But in the end I held my tongue. As much as I dreaded more talk of dreams I knew that there was safety in numbers. After it was settled that we would travel together Benny finally revealed that he had a shot gun in his possession. He had hidden it out of sight hoping not to turn us off.

His gun gave me some comfort. At least these guys weren't stupid. As far as their age went, I knew they wouldn't hold us up much. It wasn't a fast procedure traveling with a child and the extra company might be good for Mickey. That was, if I could keep this talk of night visions from floating to the surface too frequently.


	5. Chapter 5

-8-

What would have taken me half an hour in travel was taking days. Our trip to the EAC was constantly detoured. Before daybreak we had stopped to replenish supplies and scout out somewhere to stay for the day. The night after Mack and Benny had joined us we had confronted another group of norms; but they would have nothing to do with anyone. After that it was decided to wait for others to approach us.

The day after Mack and Benny joined provided more nightmares for all of us. Simon was finally confronted by the lady and he was more on edge than before. Mickey insisted that the lady didn't scare him as bad but I knew the little trouper was trying to impress the men in our group.

Mack revealed that the lady hadn't spoken to him at all; only motioned for him to follow her along Blue Ridge Road. Benny dreamed of a stage where some people were being displayed. He said they were damned and being given their final judgment.

Once again I had found myself wandering the blood filled halls of the EAC. The lights had been dimmed and in that dream I had tripped over my brother's head. I had woken in tears and unable to breath. Lucky for me, I was alone with Mickey who was more concerned over his own dream to worry about the state I was in.

I had always been a solitary creature. I preferred that my problems remain my problems.

The late hours of that day I distracted myself by listening to the men exchange stories of their dreams. All in all I was doing fine until two details grabbed my attention.

When Mack mentioned that he was traveling up Blue Ridge Road in his dream, I stopped breathing. The EAC was on Blue Ridge Road and by his description the lady was leading him toward it. I steadied myself from that blow by reminding myself that we all were headed for the EAC and we all knew it was on that road. Mack had merely integrated it into his dream. It was natural to do that. We all placed familiar things in our dreams and it was only a coincidence.

As the conversation waged on, it got around to Benny. His recount was by far the most disturbing; but would have been second if I hadn't insisted I had nothing to share.

"I just stood among a crowd. Most of 'em around me were norms but there were some of them zappies, as Helen says, lingering around. There was this voice in my head and when I looked up I saw that lady."

"Did she look the same as before?" Mack smacked his lips a bit, readjusting his teeth.

Benny shook his head. "Nope. I got a better look since-in it was lighted. She has blonde hair cut short in one of those boy styles. She weren't good for wear neither. Her arms were all caked with dried blood and I'm sure she would have been a looker if not for all that blood and that hair cut of hers."

Simon looked my way and winked. "Good thing you keep your hair long. I'm not sure we would have such interesting company otherwise."

I knew he was trying to make light of the whole thing; but I couldn't help but to feel the urge to cut my hair. Not that it would have been a bad thing. I always kept it long but after sweating on our walks and no way to shower it made me feel dirty. One of my pet peeves is for my hair to go too long without a good shampoo.

Instead of responding verbally I gave Simon the best smile I could and turned my attention back to Benny. I had a question I didn't want to ask, but somehow was propelled to. "You said you were in front of a stage?"

Benny nodded. "Sure was. On it were four people; two boys and two girls. They were the damned."

A small streak of anger flooded me. I quickly depressed it and held still. He called the people on the stage damned, but in his dream he was standing with the zappies. If anyone was damned I would think it would be the _infected ones_.

"I got a good look at 'em. That lady told us to remember 'em and to stay away from 'em."

"Whad day look like?" Mickey sat forward very uncharacteristically. He wasn't one for stories unless it involved nicely illustrated pictures. His sudden change in interest sent a chill up my spine; but I didn't move to stop him. For some reason, I wanted to know the same thing.

"They were all norms, I know that much. One of the girls was a teenager. She were a black girl and scared beyond anything I'd ever seen. Beside her was another teenage girl only this one were white. The white girl was talking to the black one, tryin' to calm her down. As for giving a better description…the black girl had orange in her hair and it were wavy and long. The white girl was a red head and both of 'em had brown eyes. They were normal lookin' alright.

"The two boys were older; probably in their twenties. One had black hair, quite messy and too long for a boy. He had earrings and a tattoo on his neck of some squiggly lines. The other one had his hair nearly shaved off making his small bread and mustache stand out. That one was topless and I saw more of 'em tattoos on his arms. What is it with boys now-a-days and disfiguring their bodies?"

I sat on edge immediately. "Tell me, please, the guy with the long hair…did he have blue eyes and was he dressed in black?"

Benny squinted his eyes at me. "Yup. Did you…"

I cut him off quickly, reaching to the paper and pencil I had given Mickey earlier. I quickly sketched the Chinese symbol for happiness and presented it to him. "Was this what his tattoo looked like?"

He nodded and was about to speak when I cut him off again. "And the other one…he had brown eyes and on one arm his tattoo was a dragon-skeleton thing and the other arm was this serpent. Both tattoos were gray and uncolored?"

"You had the dream too, didn't ya?"

I shook my head at Benny's question. "No, I didn't. It's just that…"

I couldn't finish. He had just described my brother and his friend Kirk. I didn't want to admit that someone who had never met them could describe them with such detail.

Without another word I stood and crossed the room. Fumbling through my bag I retrieved the aspirin and swallowed two down without water. I nearly chocked but my head was pounding and I was desperate.

Cherokee had padded to my side and looked up at me with longing eyes. I patted her head before looking up. Every face was turned my way. Everyone wanted an explanation but no one was willing to ask. So I volunteered as much as I dared.

"I know a couple of guys like the ones in your dream, Benny. I refuse to believe they are the same guys I know, seein' I haven't had the same dreams as the rest of you."

I didn't want to add the small fact that I knew them on a deeper level. Benny was convinced they were 'damned' and I wasn't sure what trouble it would cause to mention that one of them was my brother.

Disturbingly I found myself leaning more toward the fact that these dreams were more. Too many coincidences…too many things that they had all shared. My wondering mind had to ponder that if there was more to these dreams, why was I the only one not sharing in them?

Sure, I dreamed everyday of my brother and Benny had just dreamed of him. Sure, Mack was traveling up Blue Ridge Road and the EAC in my dreams was on that road. But I had yet to meet _the lady_.

"Helen, maybe you should share with us exactly what it is you dream about."

Simon's eyes were soft and pleading. I swallowed hard, biting my lower lip hard. Feeling selfish I didn't want to tell any of them. I had to make it to the EAC and if they believed these dreams to be omens, then they might not go if I told them of the blood and gore.

Then again, I knew it was only right to tell them. I had to let them decide for themselves. So I told them; being careful to leave out the detail about my brother's head.

I wasn't sure what to expect so when silence sent a thick blanket over us I simply sat down and waited. We were only an hour away from dusk and the sun was sending in soft orange hues through the drapes. The house we had chosen was small but comfortable. I quickly found my mind pondering the fate of the occupants again when Mack finally spoke.

"'bout time we get our things together and head out."

"You're still coming?" I asked before I could think.

"Yup," Benny chimed in. "Got to see fer ourselves. Nothing else to do any how. Not like a couple of old men like us can fight a group of zombie creatures."

"Our zombie fightin' days are over," Mack smiled as he followed Benny to the back bed rooms where they had stashed their supplies.

Simon edged closer. "There's more, isn't there?"

"Yeah," I admitted as guilt flooded me. "I'm just not ready to talk about it. That's all."

Simon straightened up moved toward the door where his pack was. "I'm thinking we should reach the EAC tonight. We'll find out what's going on then."

"I hope so." I stood and checked my own bag. I dreaded the anticipation I felt. I wanted to be at the EAC already but I was scared to death of what I would find.

-9-

As we walked we exchanged stories not pertaining to dreams. Mack and Benny were neighbors and close friends. Both were widowed and retired. Since either had any living family and were from the older generation cell phones had been unnecessary to them. Benny was one to look down on technology, considering most of it the work of a lazy generation. Mack was more tolerable making fun of missing the TV shows he watched.

When we were within a ten minute walk from the EAC we met trouble. There was just enough moon-light to alert us before it was too late.

A couple of guys, late teens, stood blocking our path. The limited light glistened off their ripe eyes; casting a haunting expression across both faces. Goon number one was bald and had a very dark complexion. His buddy, who I quickly deemed Goon two, had a fair complexion and very unkempt short hair.

What frightened me more than anything I had witnessed before was the fact that both of them were norms.

"Yeah, yo!" Goon two half shouted. "What we got here?"

Goon one laughed. "Looks like Dorothy. I see the lion, scarecrow, tin man…hell, there's even a Toto! But didn't you know that the munchkins stayed behind?"

I gritted my teeth at his sneers. My heart pounded ruthlessly but I couldn't ignore the hidden threat just issued to my child. It would seem that Simon couldn't either. He moved in front of me; shielding Mickey at the same time.

Almost too low to hear, Cherokee stood alert at my side growling.

Mack stepped forward with his hands in the air. "Aint no need to fight. Let's just handle this like men."

"Well, brother," Goon two smirked, "I gots my manhood right here!"

Leaning over Simon's shoulder I had no trouble seeing the gun. The night shaded a lot, but the pistol was picture clear. Instinctively I pulled Mickey close to my left side as I reached for the butt of my own gun.

"Then Moses said, "You have been set apart to the LORD today, for you were against your own sons and brothers, and he has blessed you this day."'

Before Benny's word could register in my head four things happened in short sequence. Cherokee leapt for Goon two; quickly biting the hand closer to her which was empty, Benny pulled out his shot gun and blew a hole into Goon one's chest, Goon two shot Cherokee in the head and then Goon two was shot down.

I stood horrified for a brief second before dropping to my knees. Trembling all over, I held Mickey close. He didn't struggle as I pushed his head to face away. He mumbled softly, on the edge of tears, calling the name of his much loved pet.

The gun, still smoking, fell with a loud clank from my hand. My dog, my daughter, didn't stir. I stared long and hard wishing for any sign of life. But there was none for there was nothing for her to give me. She had died protecting her family and I had killed the boy in return.

Revenge, no matter how soon, is a sickening satisfaction.

Swallowing hard I kept myself from being sick. Part of me cried tears over taking another's life while the other part reminded me that he got what he deserved. My dog, who would have lived for many years to come, would never comfort me again. A piece of my heart died permanently in that instant.

The next few minutes were a haze. Simon had lifted Mickey up and was cradling him. He had already begun the story of how all brave dogs go to Doggy Heaven and that Cherokee had been the bravest of them all. He reminded the small boy in his arms that he should be brave too just like Cherokee.

Benny had ventured over to double check the fresh corpses. Mack held a sturdy hand around my arm as he helped me to stand.

"Looks like we can't trust anyone anymore." My voice was weak but it carried through the deserted street.

"No, Helen. We can't just give up hope like that. Where's that optimist…that sarcastic optimist? I know she's still there somewhere."

As I looked into the earnest eyes of Simon I allowed a few silent tears to fall. I nodded, knowing he was right. Without hope we had no chance at survival.

We took the time to pull the bodies out of the road. The two boys were piled up on the shoulder without much care. I couldn't stand to look at the damage done to Cherokee so Simon and Benny gently took care of her. They treated her as they would have a person. She was carefully set in the shallows of a ditch. Dried pine straw was brushed over her. We knew there wasn't time for a proper burial but it was better than just leaving her out in the open.

Dogs might not think as we do, but they do love. This I know for sure. Her love for us caused her to set aside the most basic of instincts. She chose us over survival and she was a hero for it.

Once things were set we treaded forward with sunrise on our heels. The EAC was in view but I was too mentally exhausted to feel anything but indifference. Mickey had fallen asleep in his stroller hugging the leash Cherokee had once used. I felt guilt for I was the one who released her from it. I had been scared something would happen and she would be unable to escape. Instead it killed her.

Keeping her in my memories as a Hero I pressed on. With each step the EAC came closer and I hoped for answers.


	6. Chapter 6

**Note:** Thanks for the reviews. Any feedback is welcome. :)

This chapter is longer than most but I didn't want to stop when 10 ended.

-10-

"Helen!"

In short breaths I looked around. My eyes squinted in a futile attempt to weed out the darkness. One hand pressed on the wall, holding all my weight as the other clinched my shirt to my chest.

"Helen!" His voice echoed off the walls of the barren hall.

"Shawn!" I cried back. "Where are you?"

I could scarcely breathe. My lungs constricted on themselves, leaving my mouth dry from short intakes of air. My chest started to burn and I became dizzy in short order.

A stale breeze drifted pass; carrying a scent so nauseating I nearly collapsed. Swallowing hard I forced myself to step forward. The bumpy texture of the wall vibrated under my palm as I felt my way. My heart beat at a speed I thought impossible but the sound of it in my ears resonated on a severed delay. The thumps I heard didn't match the blood pumping through my veins. There was another source.

And it was coming from behind me.

With trembling lips I whispered my brother's name again.

Thump… Thump… Thump…

Footsteps. Behind me was the sound of someone walking very heavily and very slowly. I closed my eyes and forced my head to turn. Upon command, my eyes wouldn't open. They were glued by fear and it took all my determination to open them.

There, in the hallway shrouded by a light, was _him._ Shawn. I knew it was him though the light illuminated from behind him and he was nothing more than a silhouette. Normally he would best me by inches but he has hunched over to match my height. His shaven head hung slightly to the right as he used the same wall I did for support.

He was hurt and tears came to me in immediate response.

"Shawn!" I half yelled. My voice cracked and my throat burned. I was going hoarse but I squeezed his name out anyway.

"Helen… Don't come… Trap." Words tumbled out of him with great effort.

I couldn't stop. My feet were on a collision course and I wouldn't leave my baby brother. I couldn't… Aside from Mickey, he might be the only family I had left.

I neared enough to see the creases in his face before I was brought to an abrupt halt. Even if Benny hadn't given a description of 'The Lady', I would have known her anywhere.

She stood behind Shawn; her demonic face peering out from over his shoulder. Free of emotion her cold eyes stared ice straight into me. Her delicate hand swung from her side and toward the middle of the hall. In it was a knife with a blade sharp and dripping with blood.

Shawn's blood.

My throat went through the motions to vomit again but the consequences never accommodated that action. It was in that moment I understood what was going on.

"NO!" My voice returned with full volume.

Her fingers released the knife; but it didn't drop. For a few short seconds the knife hung lifeless in the air before darting my way.

There was no time to duck from the blade. Glistening in places not soiled with blood, the weapon flew through the air. The point aimed for my heart and a split second I contemplated death.

I wanted all this to end and if I died I knew I would find peace. But that wouldn't do. Not at all. Somewhere out there was a small child who depended on me and I couldn't let him down. I wouldn't let Mickey die.

I threw up my palm and mentally shouted at the inanimate object to stop. The tip just scratched my skin before the knife clattered to the floor.

"No touch. He mine," her voice penetrated into my mind.

I glared. "You no touch, Witch!"

Her hand flung from her side. A gust of wind, strong and full of force, crashed into me. All at once the breath was struck from me as my feet left the floor. I flew backwards down the entire length of the long hall and collided with the EAC concession stand at the end.

Instincts shut my eyes hard as I braced for impact. The impact never came. The pain never manifested. My equilibrium was thrown off and vertigo threatened to accommodate me in any misery I wished.

"Helen? Hey, you okay? Come on, Helen! Wake up."

I opened my eyes slowly to avoid by head from imploding. A set of very worried eyes took on a little relief and Simon released a pinned up breath.

I sat up slowly, allowing Mack to help. Turning my head I searched until I found Mickey safely asleep in his stroller.

"What happened?" I asked even though I didn't need an answer. I was buying time as I tried to sort all the new information in my head out.

"You just up and passed out," Benny replied squatting down. "You sent us for a real scare there, missy."

I touched my temples lightly. As I suspected the pain was quickly dissolving. Lowering my hand I inspect my right palm. In the middle was a scratch almost an inch long. In my vision…dream…whatever it was, the knife had cut deeper but the effects in the real world weren't as harsh.

"I'm sorry, but I had no control over it. Shawn…he had to tell me."

Simon rested his hand gently on my shoulder. "Helen? You aren't making much sense here."

I nodded. "I know and I think there's something I need to tell you. All of you."

Over the horizon the sun was making a slow ascent. Morning was half an hour away but that was all we needed.

I stood and brushed myself off. "Come on, guys. Let's get inside and I'll explain there."

-11-

Unlike my dreams, the halls of the EAC were not graced with blood and gore. Stadium cups and other over-priced souvenirs decorated the floor. Still, it was better than the carnage from my dreams.

We didn't venture far in before we chose the closest stairway and sat down. Mack and Benny sat a third of the way up. Simon leaned on one wall far enough up so his feet barely touched the landing. I took up residence on the bottom step and stationed Mickey at my side as I leaned my back on the other wall.

I looked up at the trio and gave them all a small smile. "What I'm going to tell you might sound a bit unbelievable."

"Hell, after what we been through I don't think there's much that can be unbelievable." Benny returned my smile seriously.

I chuckled shortly. "Alright, you asked for it. When all this started I texted my brother. Remember?"

They were all as familiar with my story as I was with their's. Mack and Benny had been at Mack's house, sitting on the front porch. Simon was in the grocery store and I was surfing the internet. Funny how three totally different paths could lead the five of us (six if I were to count Cherokee) together.

"Whatever is going on, it started with the cell phones," I continued. "October first, around three o'clock in the afternoon, all hell broke loose. Everyone, and anyone, who used their mobiles got a big dose of major brain wave reprogramming."

"Whoa, hold up a bit. You're saying this as if you know… I mean really know for sure what happened."

I gave Simon as sincere a glance as I could. "I do; and if you give me a minute I'll explain it all to you. I'm not sure I can accurately describe it because I might not know the technical terms, but I'll do my best.

"I sent my brother a text message. So I used my cell phone but didn't get the whole erase and reprogram treatment like the zappies. I'll use Layman terms. All those who used their cells to answer or make calls had some form of mind altering…thing sent straight to their brain. It stripped away everything but their basic instincts of survival. Morals, ethics, beliefs…all gone.

"Under the code that stripped them was another set of instructions. It opened parts of their minds that were once locked. Your dreams weren't dreams. These _things_ can communicate on a telepathic scale. Add this on top of the fact that everything that made them human is gone and you have a true monster. A sure guarantee that we would ultimately kill ourselves into extinction.

"Only problem is that those waves didn't reach everyone. It only infected those who had cell phones."

Mack took advantage of the pause I took to take a breath. "I might be old, but I have a Mac at home. I know a thing or two about computers. I can follow ya, but why would someone want to kill off the human race?"

Hanging my head, I sighed. "That wasn't the intent. Originally the signal was only targeted for the U.S. But there was a miscalculation and the signal ended up in air across the world. Once the mistake was found it was too late to stop it."

No one interrupted. I knew there was some doubt hanging in the air but I still had time to change the tide and eliminate that doubt cold in its tracks.

"The zappies have telekinetic and telepathic powers so they can read minds. Right now, they have lost all of their life's experiences so they can only retain that information but not understand it fully.

"When I passed out it was because my brother was trying to warn me. Today is our last day before we hit another bump. Only this bump will cost us our lives if we don't find a way over it.

"You see, when people listened to the code, or whatever it's called, they were subject to the full effects of it. It's in the air, so we have all been exposed but on a minuscule scale. So small that we retained our sanity but enough to open our minds to _their_ influence.

"We have five senses. Right now you have been exposed through feel. It's in the air so your skin will absorb some of it. There is a certain amount of electricity in our bodies that would attract the signal. Smell isn't an issue since there's nothing to smell. Same with taste. That leaves sight.

"When I texted Shawn and he texted me, we were exposed to the sight factor. The signal was embedded in the text because it was carried through the airways. Shawn figured this out yesterday when the Lady caught him. Since we were both exposed he initiated a connection with me that opened my eyes."

I paused long enough to gather a bottle of water from the undercarriage of Mickey's stroller. Though I didn't want to, I turned to examine the expressions of my comrades.

"Alright…Let me see if I have this straight. The zappies are like super zombies. Someone was out to destroy America but it backfired and since you were…infected, I guess that's the way to say it, you also have some of this extra ability?" Simon's frown indicated that he believed me even as he doubted me. He was truly confused.

"I guess that's one way to put it. Only, what abilities I have are different and not as potent as the zappies. Sorta like getting a shot compared to taking a pill. They got a mainstream dose while my dose was diluted."

"Question," Benny said raising his hand slightly. "How do you know this?"

I drew in a breath and prayed I could tell them accurately enough for them to understand. I can sometimes trip over my words and now wasn't the place. We were short on time and only I knew what was in store for us. I had to get them up to speed before they could make a logical decision on their next move.

Logical…now there's a twist on irony to use that term.

"My brother, Shawn, realized it when the zappies captured him. He wasn't aware of his ability until then. Since his ability is diluted he isn't able to read people's minds but he can read the minds of the zappies since they didn't retain the concept of privacy. They all share their thoughts so he was able to pick up on them.

"All this time I wasn't dreaming of the Lady was because Shawn was interfering without realizing it. My nightmares were a combination of his influence and my own fear. But once he was in contact with the zappies he was privileged to the information they share. And that information includes the origin of The Signal."

Everyone waited with quiet patience as I finished off the warm water.

"The knowledge of what happened is fragmented some but not too bad. I don't know who sent The Signal but I do know it was sent from somewhere near the Mediterranean Sea. It was intended to be a declaration of World War III and the enemy wanted to eliminate the U.S. from ever being involved. The plan was to infect America and while we were in chaos and our allies were attempting to analyze and help us, they would strike a crippling blow to the world that would insure world domination."

"Since this isn't more of your sarcastic humor, Helen, I believe you. It's scary enough to learn about a search for power leading to _this_, but what does it have to do with your brother?" Simon leaned forward slightly.

"Since the signal was broadcast worldwide, we no longer have to fear a war of country against country. Right now the war is us, the norms, against the zappies. Where we've been on the run Shawn took a more straight forward approach. He chose to fight."

Mack was a sharp old man and fast to make connections. His wit impressed me and never stopped to amaze me. "So, he kills a few of 'em zappies and they want to kill him? If they're stripped of their humanity then how is it they're seekin' revenge?"

"In some deranged sense…" Simon spoke slowly so not to stutter, "I guess they see it as an act of survival."

"Simon's right," I responded quickly. "But that's not it. Shawn didn't just kill a few of them. He helped to exterminate hundreds of them. Approximately four hundred to be exact."

Despite the situation I turned that last sentence over in my head. Great is the way I talk since I contradict myself. It's not wise to use 'approximately' and 'exact' in the same phrase. Regardless, the others knew what I meant so all was well in the land of technical speech.

I leaned forward until my elbows came to rest on my knees. "That's not all of what I need to tell you. You all have to decide for yourselves what you want to do next and I'm sorry but you only have half an hour to decide."

"This is serious, aint it?" Benny asked.

I looked at him without a single hint of emotion. I was on overload and felt more mechanic than organic and I know it showed. The lack of emotion might be what was needed to drill the intensity of the situation. They needed to know the truth.

"Your life will depend on it."


	7. Chapter 7

**Note:** I just realized that Mikey's name changed to Mickey in chapter 3! I guess I had Disney on the brain or something. Sometime I'll get around to changing the first two chapters since that would be easiest.

I want to thank everyone for reviews, messages and favorites on this story. Lately I've had little to no time and my inspiration is toggling. This is a rather short chapter. I have the ending in mind but getting there all I have is a vague outline.

As always, feel free to point out any errors you may find.

- 12 -

The morning was proving itself a heartless thief - stealing away my time quicker than I would have liked. I looked to the sleeping child at my side and wanted nothing more than to hold him. I wanted to hold him close, tight and fiercely. I never wanted to let him go.

I allowed a single tear to flee down my cheek.

"Here, at this very building, they are gathering. They have my brother and today they want to stage a public execution. A lot of norms have been called here, like the rest of you. More than a few of those norms have been promised safety and peace.

"I'm not buying any of that..."

"Damn straight!" Mack interrupted me. "I aint buyin' none of it either."

"Pile o' cow manure, ya ask me," Benny echoed.

I could feel my skin crawl under the pressure. I had a job to do and neither man was making it easy. I wanted to let them know what their decision would entail before they made it.

Glancing up at Simon I noticed that his expression was uncertain. I was relieved. I needed him to feel differently than the two older men. I needed him to run and I was willing to do what it took to make him.

Without turning my attention away from the men, I snaked my arm around and rested it on Mickey's chest. The soft rhythm of his heart and the shallow movements of his chest brought me back to where I needed to be.

I locked my stare with Simon. It was now or never and I had no time to spare.

"I need you, Simon. I need you to promise me something and do me a huge favor I have no way to pay back."

His eyes proved to me he had an idea of what I was going to ask him. I could see a mixture of agreement and rebuttal. He nodded, prompting me to continue before he agreed on anything solid. I'm sure he wanted to verify that my intentions were what he thought they were.

"I need you to take Mickey and run. Please, take my boy and get out of here. It's..." I swallowed down the lump in my throat. "It's the only chance he has."

The second lump would not be swallowed. I felt my airway block off and tears spilt in abundance from my eyes. My breathing sputtered but I managed to keep myself from vocalizing my anguish.

"Helen...I can't leave you. We've come so far and I can't stand to think you are ending it here."

He wanted to cry too but he held off; finding strength that I managed to lose somewhere. He made me proud and proved I couldn't have picked anyone more capable of handling the responsibility of my son's life. I had to fight. It was time I took a stand but I couldn't drag Mickey into it. As a mother, he came first. If Simon ran with him, the odds were there that they would live on. Meanwhile, I had to start fighting in this war or there would be no future for Mickey. Even if I couldn't be there to watch him grow up, I could fight to the bitter end knowing that he still had the opportunity.

"I have to stay. I don't know what to tell you to convince you, but I can't leave until I've taken care of a few things. But Mickey...I need to keep him safe and you're the only one I trust, Simon. I trust you with my son and that's..." I broke off as my voice wavered and threatened to leave me completely.

Simon scooted down until his rump was beside mine on the stairway. Reaching with no hesitation; he took me into an embrace and hugged me tightly. I lost it. I cried hard into his shoulder.

He held on. Despite how soaked his shoulder must have gotten from my tears, he never pulled back. I finally broke the connection and urged him with silent pleas. He nodded, unable to find his own voice.

Once we parted, Simon stood as I kissed my sleeping little boy good-bye. I had to force myself not to hug him or touch him too much. If he stayed sleeping then my good-bye would be easier to handle. And God knows I needed my wits about me. I've never gotten into any physical confrontation but I understood that when fighting a war emotions could hinder. I had to push with all my might to force my emotions to subside and my mother's instinct to let go.

I was doing this for Mickey. With Simon, he had a chance. It might have been small but it was better than nothing. Since I was linked to my brother, I was a threat to the zappies. They wouldn't ever stop hunting me in the wild search for their revenge. I didn't blame Shawn. In fact, I was almost wishing I had been with him when he torched the first group of zappies he found.

The pressing of time must have prompted a quick response. Without so much as a word Simon gathered himself and proceeded to push Mickey out of my view. Before he was gone he turned. His lips told me good-bye wordlessly. In response I mouthed thank you back.

Facing the zappies no longer seemed like a frightening endeavor. After parting with my only child and knowing I may never see him again; no other pain had room to roost in me. That was the moment that Helen Ashen died for without her son she felt like nothing. Without Mickey, my world was not worth living in. I was ready to fight and to die trying.

In a way, I was already dead.

"What now?" Mack asked after a respectful amount of time.

To my surprise I found answering him easy. I would have thought that seeing my child taken from me, even by my own choice, would have stripped my voice away. Instead, knowing that Mickey was safe made me stronger. "Time to fight or run. Those are the options you have. If you fight…"

"No need 'splainin'," Benny replied quickly. "We're a couple 'o old men. Aint got much life left, so might as well do something with it. If we die we die. Plain and simple."

Mack only smacked his lips. Benny had said it all and Mack felt no need to expand. Now there were three of us. All ready to be an army of three and fight for what little future we could give to this world.

My grandfather had fought in World War II. My dad and uncle contributed their loyalty to America in Vietnam. Somewhere in my blood were reminisces of the Civil War. Fighters were only one attribute to my heritage and I prayed that all of them would give me strength. This once pacifist girl was willing to fight; not for her country but for her son. Selfish? I know it is but at that moment I couldn't care less of who was benefiting from my actions as long as it provided Mickey with a better future.

I scanned the hallway. I knew that at any moment more people would show up. We had been lucky so far but it wouldn't be long before our privacy was breached. I glanced at my watch. In two hours, at noon, the zappies planed to show everyone what comes to those who injure them. Somewhere in the building my brother was being help captive.

"All right," I spoke sturdy. "I need to find Shawn and the others. Once we get them out we'll need to fight. But that's where the problem is. I have no idea what to do once we get Shawn."

Benny's thick hand came to rest on my shoulder and he held the shot gun up with his free hand. "We'll git to that part when we git there. No use 'n frettin' 'bout it."

Mack hummed thoughtfully. "When they want to do the festivities?"

I paused. Today the zappies planned on executing my brother and three other people. We wouldn't be able to get Shawn out…he would be too heavily guarded. Now we did need a plan.

I pounded my fist into my hand. "Shit! This isn't going to work."

- 13 -

After realizing that our time was extremely short, we raced up to the top floors. The zappies slept on ground level, as far as we could tell, so if there was any hope it was upstairs.

The very top floor provided us with offices and equipment rooms. I'm sure that during regular business hours the main entrance door would be locked. But due to the new 'holiday' the doors were not only unlocked but opened.

We split up, never straying too far from one another, and searched the rooms methodically. The first round of savaging turned up nothing. Without words we nodded to each other and proceeded to the next junction.

The first room I opened was the Manager's Office. As I expected, there was nothing of use. Though I didn't find a single weapon, I pocketed the Zippo lighter he had tucked into a drawer. After long nights of walking I had realized that I hadn't packed matches. Though I couldn't conceive of a use for the lighter, I still took it with me. I was ready to die but routinely looked to providing for my future.

I didn't have a future and I knew it. Still, the lighter tucked into my pocket made me feel a little better.

The second room I chanced upon was an equipment room. I didn't see much of interest and nearly walked out when a faint shine caught my eye. The bulbs overhead were dull and did a poor job at illuminating the room. Despite that they had found a way to alert me to something I would have otherwise missed.

There was another door at the back of the room. I took a split second to weigh the options of time versus curiosity. Curiosity won and I slunk to the door as quickly as I could. I had intended to open the door and asses quickly if there was a need to explore or not. If not, I wasn't going to waste any more time than possible. But what I found was more than I had expected.

The cat walk.

I inched into the small room surrounded by glass windows. The door (also glass) was positioned ahead and to the right. Looking out I could see the whole stadium. My mind went quickly into formulating a plan of some kind. This new discovery could be very useful. And to make things better, there were four other rooms like the one I had found myself in scattered along the ceiling.

I wasn't sure of the fine aspects of my new plan, but I was sure Mack and Benny would have the answers to fill in my blanks. I left the room, making sure the door stayed ajar, and searched for my comrades in arms.


	8. Chapter 8

**Note: **Thanks again to all my readers. I was given this really neat idea to throw in and I apologize. I just couldn't think of how to incorporate it. The idea was: 9+1+9 equals 19 and the number 19 is also inside 919. I would have never thought of that but unfortunately I couldn't fathom how to include it. Thank you GofG for that, and I'm sorry I couldn't work it in.

- 14 –

In only one short hour my brother was set to be slaughtered. My heart raced at a speed that caused my chest to tighten and ach. If our plan didn't go as smooth as possible, we were all dead.

Honestly, I was sure we were all dead anyway. I didn't see a happy ending. Surprisingly, that didn't frighten me. Failure scared me but death I saw differently. I was able to look at death with indifferent feelings and gratitude. If death had been tangible I would have took its hand and lead it to follow me; sure it would grab my soul swiftly when the time came.

And that time was quickly approaching.

As Benny and Mack stayed on the top floor, I quickly made my way down the emergency stairway. Unfortunately the stairway was dark and small. The flashlight I held gave me more light than comfort. Racing down, I stopped only fast enough to flash my light on the brightly painted numbers beside contrastingly dull doors. Floor #1 appeared before I was ready to face it.

Pushing away the anxiety growing in my stomach; I retreated swiftly and as quietly as possible. Back on the bottom floor, I scanned the hallways briefly.

I knew what I had to do and used all my energy to focus on any and every childhood memory that would surrender itself. Childhood shows I loved as a child replayed themselves. Characters from Voltron, Gummy Bears, My Little Pony, Thundercats…and many more entertained my thoughts as I snuck toward the stage entrance.

As I walked the halls, life began to stir. My breaths sputtered as a mixture of norms and zappies started to swarm around me. I felt as if I were at the EAC on opening night of a bizarre Halloween concert. A slow trickle of people steadily grew. People started to enter and move straight for the nearest opening to the arena itself.

The norms paid me more attention than the zappies. I was moving against the flow. I got a few questioning looks but no one confronted me directly. I wasn't worried about the norms. The zappies were the ones I was trying desperately to hide my intentions from.

"_He was Prince Adam…yeah that was He-Man's name…and Battle Cat was…oh what was his name…something like Coward. No, not Coward. Cringer! That was it – I think. The cat's name was Cringer."_

I smiled as I quizzed myself on cartoons no longer on the air. I was sure any zappy trying to read my mind would overlook such nonsense. Or at least I hoped that would be the case.

After maneuvering through an endless stream of people, I finally found my goal. The first indication I had that I was on the right track was the 'EMPLOYS ONLY' sign on the door. The second indication (and most valid) was that the key Mack had found upstairs marked 'STAGE' allowed me to unlock my way.

I entered and closed the door as quickly as I could behind me. My vision was impaired by the lack of light; but I didn't want to chance using my flashlight. I had too much to hide and not enough 'happy thoughts'. My thoughts might be overlooked but I doubted that the flashlight would go unnoticed.

Earlier upstairs I had given Mack my gun and Benny the Zippo. As I neared the exit that would lead me to the arena I patted the spot my gun had once been. _"Maybe this was a stupid idea,"_ I thought. It really was too late to turn back now and I couldn't stop. Stupid or not I had to do what I could.

I found myself shuffling my feet as my thoughts chanted the opening theme song to the original Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Boy how I could use some serious Turtle Power about now. My nerve was treading thin and I felt a hair away from stark raven mad!

If I had nails I would be eating them for dinner. My detached mind did wonder how on Earth I had gotten on this side of the television screen. I should be sitting in a dark room, popcorn in lap, yelling at the B-rated horror actress not to go further.

New to the screen in her fabulous debut, Helen Ashen! Come, let's all watch as she's eaten to death by the Cell Phone Junkie Zombies.

Cell Phone Junkie Zombies… It was amusing but not as catchy as Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

I had been so wrapped up in my own twisted prep speech that I had managed to make it to the back of the elevated stage. I only allowed my mind to fret momentarily on how I got from the stage hallway to the stage without even realizing what I was doing. Perhaps there was more to that theory about overdosing on fear I had a few days ago. If I lived I would have to check into that. I'm sure the library was open with no waiting.

I really didn't want to think too hard about what I was about to do. I didn't even know if I could do it. Sometimes when the going gets rough you just got to jump head first and do your best. Damn the rest.

And that's exactly what I did.

- 15 -

"_Caramel Pudding… Karaoke Karate!" _

Though I wouldn't call my actions sane, I did keep the zappies off track with my gibberish thoughts as I pulled myself onto the back of the stage. In front of me were the four people Benny had talked about in his dreams. Shawn and Kirk were nearly in my reach when I hear a screech.

I jerked my head up in time to see the Lady. As she flung her hand up I reacted on instinct and ducked. Air whooshed over me at an incredible speed. As if I had planned the duck, I rolled closer to the four stationed on the stage. No ropes held them. They were frozen.

I stood sharply and jumped to the side expecting another attack. I rested my hand on Kirk's chest for support as I watched the Lady for her next move.

"You've been a very bad girl," Kirk taunted me.

That was when I lost all grip on what I had hoped to accomplish. Kirk had always been good natured. The tone in his voice was so unlike him but he had spoken. I locked my stare on his hazel-green eyes.

"Ignore him and run Helen!" Shawn shouted. "She's controlling him. Now run!"

I caught a glimpse of movement just in time to dodge Kirk's feeble attempt to grab me. The expression on his face went from emotionless to anguish. He was fighting the Lady but she was winning. I could see his apology screaming at me from his eyes.

I took the opportunity to try something I would have otherwise been embarrassed to do. As I raised my hands, palms out, I didn't fear if it would work or not. I summoned the feelings I had had in the dream state Shawn had taken me too earlier and pushed. I pushed with all my might and praying that God would give me the ability to knock the Lady right off the stage.

I was shocked nearly senseless when it worked. It was only then that I realized Benny and Mack were putting their part of the plan into action. I snapped out of it.

When we had been upstairs Benny had found something quite useful. He had found a box of fireworks, most likely stored against regulations. To top the cake, he knew how to use them.

The high-pitched and very deafening squeal of the ignited rockets preceded a very loud boom. The boom was shortly followed by various screams. Then it repeated. My sarcastic mind couldn't help but to chant "lather, rinse, repeat" over and over.

Before the four on the stage could fully comprehend what was happening, I grabbed the black girl's arm and pulled her head close to mine.

"You need to run! Go now and go fast."

She didn't acknowledge me but I knew she heard me. I glanced at Shawn. He was stunned and looking to his big sister for answers. I gladly obliged him.

"We need to get out of here right now!"

I motioned toward the entrance I had taken. The four on stage needed no more motivation. Shawn and Kirk helped the two girls down. I took another glance at the carnage around me.

Several people were on fire. There were no words to explain just how horrible it hit me. Some of them were norms. Some of them were innocent and only seeking safety. Mack, Benny and I had agreed (reluctantly) that we couldn't hold back. War was cruel. We were cruel. We were murderers.

My stomach knotted and I fell hard to my knees. I hadn't eaten much so when I did finally get sick it was a mixture of stomach fluids and aspirin.

"Helen!"

I looked up and brushed the tears from my eyes. Shawn was off the stage looking up at me. I swallowed hard.

"Get out of here!" I yelled. "Find Mickey. He's with Simon. Find your nephew and live."

I didn't give him time to answer before I pushed him like I had pushed the Lady. Exhausting myself, I managed to push my brother through the back stage entrance before something blew up beside me. One of the fireworks had timed just right to cause a cave-in; closing off my exit but preventing Shawn from getting back in.

I collapsed. Rolling onto my back, I blinked rapidly to clear my vision. Edges blurred and realigned themselves rhythmically. My peripheral vision caught movement from both of the booths near the ceiling. I darted my eyes from right to left. On my right I saw Mack. To the left I saw Benny.

I wanted to close my eyes and forget what I was seeing. From both booths the windows exploded out in unison. Mack and Benny had been pushed and plummeted to their death.

My eyes remained wide open but thanks to the endless screams I didn't have to hear two of my dear friends die.

I was my fault. I was my entire fault. I didn't want to be alone. I had dragged the men into this. My selfish wants to see my brother overcame my humanity.

Before I could wrap myself into more self-pity, I found myself looking into the eyes of the Lady. I held my breath and waited. She would kill me and I deserved no less. I was in a room of people burning alive. So many innocent people had died or were dieing. It was only fair I give my life in exchange.

She grabbed my chin roughly. I knew she was going to squeeze my jaw right off; but still I didn't blink. A calm serenity came over me. I gave up.

Instead of killing me, she pressed a cell to my ear. A buzzing similar to the hiss of static tingled as it passed from the phone to me. I almost laughed, and would have if my lips had not gone numb. My teeth began to grind softly.

Then it came. At long last it came to me. Objects lost their original colors. Everything was doused in many hues. I had at last found my rainbow.

I felt heat crawl up my arm. I knew I was on…I was hot, I think. I don't know. What was I doing? I can't remember. Pain. Pain ran through me.

And then everything went black. Eternal darkness.


	9. Chapter 9

- Epilog -

- I -

"Hey! Look, Father Simon! Look what I caught."

Suppressing the smile on my face would have been as impossible as touching the moon. Being called 'Father' amused me. I was neither a priest nor the boy's biological father. He, on the other hand, might argue. Swear as he will, he will not be convinced that I am anything other than his dad.

"That's quite a catch," I relied looking at the trout he held up. Scales shimmered like rainbows as the fish flopped back and forth.

"_A rainbow...Helen I hope you found your peace."_

Everything had happened only four short years ago; yet it felt much like an eternity. It was a slow transition at first. Somehow, I managed to keep Mickey safe. We had a few close calls but we survived. Four years of traveling might be tough, but Mickey never once gave up.

Sometimes he still dreams of his mother. I convinced myself long ago she didn't make it. Mickey would also disagree with that. He believes that someday we will find her. We had traveled all the way to Kentucky and back. We only returned with the faint hope that some friends were not lost.

For now, time by the stream in the early summer morning was enough to calm us. There's not much left of this world but somehow humanity survived. Months after 'The Pulse' was aired around the world, the zappies started to act strange. They first set to turn everyone into one of them but the second dose wasn't as strong. Eventually they either killed each other or committed suicide. The zappies that managed to survive, despite that, were extinguished by norms either in self defense, pity or in the war.

The war lasted eight months. Almost every norm contributed by the end of it. Since the zappies where in such a state of confusion, they weren't hard to kill. Most went mad and could no longer control the strange powers they had accumulated by The Pulse.

In the end, humanity survived. But survival carried a heavy price.

"I think we will be there by tomorrow, Mickey. But...don't set your hopes too high. There's no tellin' if it's even still there."

"I know," he said sitting beside me on the grassy mound.

Tomorrow we were going to check on the house his grandparents had lived in when he was four. Next to that was the house he lived in with his mother. I feared what we would find but Mickey was so like Helen. He had enough hope for the both of us and more to spare.

- II -

To my surprise both houses (along with the rest of the neighborhood) were standing and in fairly good condition. The years had been unkind; keeping the yards very unkempt.

The first place Mickey wanted to go was his own home. The small house was modest. Once around the waist high grass we tried the front door. Thanks to neglect, it nearly crumbled under the pressure of a simple push.

I followed Mickey into the dimly lit house. Mold and musk assaulted us subtly.

The front door opened into the living room. Two couches, two coffee tables and a TV stand (complete with TV) rested with a thick layer of undisturbed dust. Pictures of dragons and other mystical settings adored the walls in most places and the floor (from falling) in others.

The living room opened to a small dinning room and kitchen. Once again dust had made its home here along with a number of crawling insects and mice. Any food that had once been gathered there had long ago been scavenged by the elements.

Through the dinning room was a small hall. To the left was the bathroom, straight ahead was the room Mickey claimed as his and to the right was Helen's room. Mickey slipped into his old room. I turned and stood at the doorway to Helen's.

"_I understand why you left us. I know that they were after you and you couldn't_ _protect Mickey like you wanted. I only wish you were still here. He needs you..."_

Whoever said that real men don't cry can go to hell for all I care. I cried. Silent tears accompanied me as I stared blankly at the room. I tried to imagine it as it had been four years ago. I'm sure I was close but doubted that I could capture all the details. It was a shame I hadn't known Helen before all hell on Earth broke loose. I would have liked to have known her when the end of the world wasn't nearing.

Mickey finished what he had needed to do and guided me back out of the house. The eight year old was resilient and coasted through without a single tear. Surely he had inherited Helen's inner strength.

Entering into Mickey's grandparent's house was a bit tougher. The hinges to the screen door had rusted over and it took us both to pry it from the doorway. The wood door beneath was sturdy but unlocked. We entered the larger house and immediately saw a big difference. Where Helen's house had been neglected, it was evident that someone had taken residence in this house - though they were no longer here.

Dust layered everything much as it had Helen's house but in far less quantities. A fireplace tucked to the side didn't conceal that a fire had been burning only last winter.

Mickey stopped halfway into the living room and knelt. My view was obstructed but I could see him shake slightly. I gave him a few minutes before breaking his trance.

"Mickey?"

He stood and turned slowly. "F-father Simon..." he whispered. Clutched to his chest was a stuffed panda - dilapidated with time. Keeping one arm clasped tightly around the stuffed animal, he handed me a folded sheet of paper.

For a second more, I watched him. His dry eyes clouded and a storm of tears covered his cheeks. I stepped toward him. Playing my mirror, he stepped away. Nodding his head, he indicated the paper I had momentarily forgotten. I unfolded it and read it silently.

_Mickey,_

_I hope that you get this someday. I've lived in this house for three years now and it's time I move on. But before I do I had to tell you about your mother. She was the best and I wanted you to know just how much she loved you. She wanted you to grow up and live a happy full life. That is why she decided to fight. Those craze-bakes (as I called them) would never stop hunting her down and she knew if they found you with her then you would have been killed. She sent you away because of how much she truly loved you._

_And I love you too. I've been here, in my parent's house, too long and it is time for me to move on. Please come and find me if you get this note. I'll be headed toward Pennsylvania. Come find me at the chocolate factory. Check you later, kid._

_Uncle Shawn_

I extended my arm and Mickey fell against me. The eight year old looked like a scared four year old. I remembered many nights the child had asked for Panda when he realized he had left it behind. Now panda and boy were reunited.

We settled for the night. Right now I'm not sure if we'll stay here for a while or head up to Pennsylvania soon. We'll worry about that later, after we've had time to rest.

* * *

Thanks bunches Goddess of the Deep – you notes really kicked my inspiration back into gear. Sorry it had to end so soon.

Also thank you to all who reviewed, emailed me and read my story.

This is the first story I've ever done with such a somber ending. I knew how I wanted it to end before writing. I've always done the 'happily ever after' endings and had to try at one that was 'not-so-happy'. Though it was happy not to kill of everyone. I hope you all enjoyed my venture through this story.


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